How To Plan A Wedding To Your BlacksmithPirate
by Crystyna
Summary: How To Plan A Wedding To Your BlacksmithPirate Honey. Back from the dead at last. The trip down that aisle isn't all roses and birds singing. COMPLETE.
1. Acts of Bravado

Disclaimer: I, once again, own nothing recognizable from the movie, or the ride for that matter. For once, however, I do own the plot and any OC's that it comes with.

A/N: Welcome to HTPAWTYBPH, or as it is more commonly known as, HTSAH 2 (pronunciation: hut-suh-too.) We are on the road to marital bliss. Here, thar be monsters.

1.

Okay, so, where were we? Oh yeah, Will was kissing me, and Elizabeth had passed out from the shock of being snubbed. Life is good.

"Christina, are you quite sure you want to marry him?" my had father said, after pulling up Elizabeth and letting her lean on his shoulder, the way he used to when we were little.

I snapped back to attention and looked at my father. "What? Of course I'm sure I want to marry him. Why wouldn't I?" I asked. My father looked around, and then looked at me.

"Well, he is a blacksmith," my father said. I glared.

"I think we've established the fact that he's a pirate. And even if he wasn't, I'd still marry him. I will not be jerked about by the strings of propriety. Good day, father. I'll be home for dinner," I said angrily and turned away. Will followed me.

"Christina, wait," he said. I turned around, angry and hurt, even if he wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Will," I said quietly. We were standing by the very statue that I had spotted Jack from so many weeks ago. Okay, so it wasn't that long ago but still, a lot had happened in that time.

For example, I went on an adventure, met a lot of pirates, dueled with pirates, learned how to sail (kind of), defied my father about a million times, and nearly died when I got slashed in the ribs. Oh yes, and I also fell in love (well, I realized it was love and not some stupid infatuation), and actually had someone love me back.

"Shh," Will had said, "It's all right. Don't worry about what your father said. I don't care," he continued, pulling me next to him and wrapping his arms around me. I sighed heavily and leaned my head on his shoulder, the whole hugging thing was very new to me and a little awkward.

"I care, though. How could he say such things, and in front of you?" I said angrily. Will sighed.

"It's fine -"

"No, its not. My father is a horrid, puffed up, wig-wearing scoundrel and I _hate_ him! He worries about propriety and what the good people of Port Royal will say, when he really means is that he's worried about what all this pompous, rich and powdered bilge-eating brown-nosed friends say about me!" I snapped.

Will chuckled. "You have the dirtiest mouth I've ever heard on a woman," he mused.

I smiled weakly. "That's not the point! He's not even worried about me, but what I will reflect on _him! _And he doesn't have the right to be so awful to you," I grumbled.

Will grinned, "I'm used to it," he said. I glared up at him.

"Used to it? Used to being put down like that?…oh, if I was there I would have smacked every single bast -" before I could finish, Will's lips closed over mine.

"Mmph," I said, and pulled away after a moment.

"If it doesn't bother me, why does it bother you?" he asked.

"It should bother you," I said moodily, pulling away again.

Will looked crestfallen. I laughed. "Come on, Will, lets go," I said, and started to walk again.

We walked to the shop. This was where I spent most of my time now, and Will let us in. "Mr. Brown?" I called, not hearing the tell-tale snoring that usually gave him away. Nope, all was silent, and the donkey that was usually there was no where to be found. Will frowned.

"Doesn't look like anyone's been here in weeks," he said.

"How do you figure?" I asked sarcastically, still disgruntled.

Will nodded to the empty bottles of stale rum on the floor, ignoring my bad attitude. I snorted.

"So Mr. Brown doesn't get anything done, unless you're here to do it?" I asked. Will sighed and walked over to the stool where the hammer lay. Under it was a huge stack of papers.

"Oh, bloody hell," Will cursed. I walked up to him, a bit self conscious. I mean, okay, until recently, I was Will's best friend. And now, I was his fiancé. Well, at least I think so. I mean, I don't have a ring, and there isn't even a date set, and good GOD, I think he _is_ mad! My sister was _right there_ for him, all set up for him to marry and he goes and asks _me?_ This is some cruel prank, and I don't think I should have told Jack to sail away and leave me here.

"Christina?" Will asked, touching my arm. I jumped and looked up into his eyes.

"Yes? What is it? What happened?" I asked.

Will looked hard at me, and I squirmed, looking away. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you quite sure that you're alright?" he asked me, his hand moving up and down my arm. I swallowed hard, not really able to concentrate.

"I'm…fine. Its just. Well, the wound. That I h-have," I stammered, trying very hard to look away from his eyes, which were not leaving mine. "Yes, the wound. The pirate wound. Not quite healed yet. And sometimes it twinges," I said, my voice going strangely high pitched. I made my eyes as wide as they could possible get without taking over my face. _Please believe me, please believe me,_ I thought. I didn't need him to know exactly what happened to my stomach every time he touched me. Or looked at me. Or breathed at me. Because, quite frankly, I didn't know what the hell was going on to begin with!

Will nodded slowly, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go home? I could walk you to the mansion." he offered. I shook my head quickly.

"No. I don't want to go back there. My father is going to have to rehearse the lecture that he'll give me tonight while we eat. One of his favorite pastimes is giving me indigestion, you know. You see, he screams so much whenever I do something he doesn't approve of, that it forces me to eat fast so that I can leave," I babbled. Will smiled, kissing me softly on the lips. Good lord, he was good at that…

"Sometimes he makes thing up just to yell at me," I murmured. Oh yes, good job, Christina, just keep spitting out stupidity while he kisses you…

"Well, if you're sure," he said. Sure about what? I picked up the stack of papers and cleared my throat, trying very hard to make sure my lips hadn't turned to mush.

"What's all this?" I asked. Will sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.

"New orders for new swords. There's got to be about eight in all, and its not easy making each saber to the liking of each customer," he said.

"Oh," was the best thing I could come up with. I walked away and looked about the shop. There were swords everywhere. Some of them were very different than the others, looking more crude. I smiled slightly, Will must have made these during the first few years as Mr. Brown's apprentice. They got better and better as I looked on.

"Will, you have so many swords already made. Why cant you just sell these and save yourself the time?" I asked. Will was sorting through the orders and didn't hear me at first, I suppose, looking up a long moment later.

"Oh…because, each order is very specific. And in order for me to do my job, I have to fulfill all the requirements and requests," he said. I walked up to him and took a scrap of parchment.

"Two standard training sabers," I read, raising an eyebrow. "You must have made those before, this order is as good as done," I said, glancing around the shop. Will glared.

"That isn't the point," he said. I blinked. A little huffy now were we?

"Or is a matter of pride?" I said gently. Will looked up.

"I'm sorry, Christina. I'm not in the best of moods, there's a lot that I've got to do," he said, running a hand through his hair. I sighed. Not in the best of moods. No, of course not. I tried to kill the feeling that perhaps this was because he had promised himself off to the ugly duckling when he really wanted the swan. And the only difference was that the "ugly duckling" was all grown up and still…an ugly duckling.

"Will," I said quietly. He looked up.

"What's wrong, Christina?" he asked quietly. I bit my lip and swallowed hard. I wanted to ask him why he chose me. Was it just some ploy to get my hopes up, and then dash them when he came to realize what a stupid mistake he had made? No, it couldn't be. Will could be dense at times, as dense as a rock, but he wasn't cruel.

I forced myself to smile, and pushed those dark thoughts away. Mostly because I didn't want to hear his answer. For now, I wanted to believe that he was as deeply in love with me as he had said, even if it caused the both of us pain. Selfish, I know, but there you have it.

"I'd really like to stay and watch you make all the swords," I said. He looked hard and me, and I smiled wider, grimacing inside. Then he smiled, and I almost let out a sigh of relief.

"Its going to be very boring," he said. I smiled again, all the questions that I wanted to ask were shuffling around in my brain, tickling my scalp as if they were pulling my hair from the inside.

"I'm sure I'll love it," I said.

1.

I don't think I would be able to make a living as a blacksmith. It gets unbearably hot in the shop when Will is making each sword. In fact, in the four hours that I had sat in the background and watched Will work, I counted at least three hundred droplets of sweat dripping down my back. Okay, so I lost count after fifteen. But that's still a lot. Especially in a huge stupid dress that made me look like I had a carnival under my skirts.

Now, I had watched him at work before, and under normal conditions, I was in a shift, which was much easier to breathe in. But under the circumstances (meaning, I wasn't exactly sure where I stood with Will anymore) I kept on my stupid huge dress and sweated like a pig. Very unpleasant.

My hair fell limp after the first twenty minutes, and part of me was regretting how I had let Mary style my hair by leaving it nearly all down. Not only did she go against the style that was popular in Port Royal, and make me look even more like the odd one than I already am, but when it is left down in warm weather, it tends to grow into a massive ball of tangles that has about a three foot radius.

It was stifling in the shop, but I did not want to be rude and leave and besides, when Will works, he puts everything into what he does. Meaning he gets very sweaty and his shirt was unbuttoned. And if I have nothing on Elizabeth, the one thing that I can have against her is all the times that I have seen Will with his shirt unbuttoned.

And of course, when he unbutton his shirt and kept melting the metal and then cooling it, and then pounding away, all the while a look of utmost concentration on his face - well, lets just say the things that it did to my stomach were rather odd. I was dimly away that every time he looked up to take a breath, my heart would jump and my face would get hotter than the very atmosphere of the room itself.

I sighed angrily at myself and caught Will looking at me out of the corner of his eye. As soon as he noticed me looking -and how could he not, I mean, I was staring at him like a cat stares out the window - he went back to work. But after a few moments, he did it again. I raised and eyebrow and took out my fan, trying very hard to learn how to _breathe_ the air as opposed to _drinking_ it.

Will put down his hammer and walked up to me. He took the fan from my hand and put it down by my side. "Will," I said, but before I could finish (or _start_) asking what he was doing, his lips were on mine. Again. And as pleasant as that was, it made me wonder _why_ exactly he wanted to be kissing me all the time. We barely talked anymore. I mean, it was great because that meant that I didn't have to hear him talk in sonnets about Elizabeth's beauty, but I also enjoyed talking to him in the rare circumstances the he talked about something besides her.

Meanwhile, I was pushed up against a pillar in the blacksmith shop, trying to remember how I'd learned to breath through my nose. When he finally pulled away, I couldn't remember my name.

"Will, you have to finish that sword...you know..." I said, leaning on him. This was pathetic. My brain had melted with the rest of me in this insufferable heat. I shouldn't be turning into a puddle of non-intelligence just because Will's lips happen to fall on mine once in a while. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

"Christina, its getting late, you should be going home," Will said, finishing on the….what…third sword of the day? I'd been hear all day, since about eight in the morning. We'd only left to get lunch at the market, which was something that I'd rarely done, as the only time I was out of the mansion was to learn how to duel, and I never had time for anything else.

Will opened the windows to the shop and walked back to me, taking my hand in his. "Let's go, I'll walk you home," he said. He led me out of the shop and we walked through the darkened streets. There wasn't a soul out to be seen, and it was a bit far to the mansion. That was fine with me, it was a cool night, and I needed time to sort out my thoughts, which has been chasing each other in circles all day.

"It's beautiful tonight," Will said softly, pulling my hand to his elbow as we walked slowly. The air held traces of hovering salt water, I could taste it on my lips.

"Hmm," I said, trying to figure out why it felt so good to be around Will. I mean, yes, part of the reason could be because I'm in love with him, but was it supposed to be so addictive?

I suppose I should be very grateful that I am going to get married for love, because arranged marriages were much more common instead. And I shudder to think of what my father would choose as a "suitable" husband for me. Images of Katherine's Petruchio come to mind, and I'd not like to be starved and kept sleepless in order to conform to the image of a proper lady. Ah, but my dear sister Elizabeth would be like Bianca, the ever beautiful and gracious younger sister.

"What are you thinking?" Will whispered in my ear, and I trembled against my will.

"Shakespeare," I said hoarsely, turning to look at him. It was just then that I'd realized we'd stopped walking. Will smiled a bit and we continued walking.

"Have you ever read Shakespeare, Will?" I asked. The smile faded from his lips and left me wondering what I'd said that was wrong.

He sighed, "No, can't say that I have," he said quietly. He stood up a bit rigidly, and seemed agitated.

"Well, you should. I have some books in my room that I'd be glad to let you borrow, if you like. I mean, whenever you have time. When those orders are all done, I mean. You've only got about five more to make, right? And then we can - "

"I can't read Shakespeare, Christina," Will said. I frowned, totally confused.

"Well, why not? The plays are simply amazing, Will, I know you'll love them, my mother brought the books from London, they were hers," I said. She'd given Elizabeth her jewelry, and she'd given me her books. Personally, I thought the books were more valuable, but that's me. If I told my sister such things, she'd probably faint. Luckily, Elizabeth isn't talking to me much nowadays.

"Don't worry about it, Will, I'll let you borrow them, though," I offered meekly. Will stopped again and looked at me angrily.

"I can't read them, Christina," he said harshly. I blinked.

"My mother used to read to me, before she died. I haven't read anything like that since," he said coldly, and I felt a chill at the harshness in his voice. Will never spoke about his parents. Both of them were dead. His mother, when he was very young and soon after that his father.

"I'm sorry, Will, I didn't know," I whispered, cursing myself over and over again for pushing when I should have just let the subject drop.

"It's alright," he said gruffly, and we walked on in silence.

To get to the mansion, you have to go through a very dark part of town, which is why my father usually sends a carriage to pick me up. One would think that this is a kind thing to do, but it really isn't. Because most of the time he's waiting in the carriage with Elizabeth, ready to berate me as soon as a step in about why my hair is so rumpled and why I'm flushed.


	2. Death By Corset

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

"You were back awfully late last night," Elizabeth said smartly as she yanked the curtains away from my bed, and allowed the sunlight to blind me.

"You're very observant, aren't you?" I moaned, rolling over and pulling a pillow over my head. I could hear her clicking her tongue in a most disapproving (and infuriating) way. "You didn't even bathe last night. What were you out all night doing?" she said snidely.

She'd been prodding me for over an hour, and had just now decided to add physical pain to the intellectual annoyance of her existence. I sat up and pulled the comforter around myself.

"Let your imagination run free," I said sarcastically. The look of utter shock on her face was so priceless, it was all I could do to keep from laughing myself silly.

"You little tramp, oh, if I tell Father…" she threatened.

I grinned, "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Elizabeth," I said. "I haven't done anything raunchy just yet, nor do I intend to. I would have left that up to you," I said, yawning. She threw a pillow at me, and yelled for Mary to come in.

"See to it that you bathe my sister, Lord knows what she's been up to last night," Elizabeth said disgustedly, before stomping out. I sighed and then winced as I spotted Eleanor in a corner.

"You can go tell all your friends, if you like. There is no truth to her words," I snapped at the wide eyed little fool. Eleanor had straw blonde hair and fair pink skin, and huge watery blue eyes. She was always snooping around for gossip, I'd noticed, and no doubt she'd be telling every servant that she knew about how the Governor's older daughter was a whore who slept around in a blacksmith shop.

Honestly, it wouldn't be sleeping _around_. I mean, after all, he is my fiancé.

And you know as well as I do that I didn't _do_ anything. In fact, last night was filled with passion of the _wrong_ kind, as we had gotten into a fight. Or rather, I'd let my mouth run of with me and had said the wrong thing again. And as much as I'd thought that I wouldn't get to sleep, I had. Now I was left with a whole day to wonder exactly what had happened last night, and what to do about it.

Will had said that he would see me after all the swords were done being made. If he'd kept the pace of yesterday, that would be in about two days. But what if he didn't come?

You know, I'd had a tutor for years and he'd taught me to read, and to write, and even to do a bit of arithmetic. But no one had ever taught me how to behave when in a courtship, and how to decipher the incredibly complex language of men. And if you ask me, that is perhaps one of the more important things that I could have learned. But then, women are usually sold off like pack animals, so interacting in a relationship is not really important, I suppose.

Unless you happen to be strange, like myself, and chose your own mate.

Good God, did I just say mate?

Mary walked in, laden with towels and combs and powder, and another maid (who's name I'd yet to discover - where did all these people come from?) carried the dress I was to wear today. A tub filled with water was waiting behind a curtain, and I quickly stripped out of my nightgown, wrapping my robe around me, to bathe.

"Mary, the water is cold," I whined, feeling a great deal more cheerful then I thought I would, after what happened last night. Perhaps the immense satisfaction of infuriating Elizabeth, and telling off Eleanor, put a damper on my true emotions. Like utter confusion and sadness. I should antagonize the lot of them off more often.

"The water was warm hours ago, most likely when you walked in, miss, but since you slept so late, it must have gotten cold. You can leave now, Linda," I heard Mary say. She handed me soap and stepped behind me to wash my hair. I felt myself pout.

"What hour is it, Mary? I'm awfully hungry," I said.

"It's about three in the afternoon, miss, and I suggest you stay here as long as you possibly can, your father is throwing a grand old fit," she said. I sighed and sunk under the water, coming up a minute later sputtering.

"It figures, Elizabeth's run off to tell him what his bawdy older daughter's been up to last night," I said angrily.

Mary chuckled, "Oh no, miss, he's been worrying since early this morning. But I told him that you were feeling ill, so he let you sleep," she said.

"Well, thanks for that, at least," I said quietly, as she poured more (cold) water on my head to rinse away the soap.

"Up you get, miss," she said, handing my me robe and going to wait while I dried off. I could hear her bustling about, probably making the bed, as I pulled on my shift and picked up the corset that I would unfortunately have to wear.

"Mary, how much do you think I could get away with?" I asked suddenly, stepping out from behind the screen. She looked at me, startled. "What do you mean, miss -what were you up to last night?" she asked.

I glared at her, mock indignant, "Mary, you've known me since we were children. First off, stop calling me miss. If I had a penny for every time you said that, I could buy you your own maid. And secondly, you know I'd never do anything…unbecoming…of a lady," I said, smiling indulgently at her. She rolled her eyes.

"No, never, Christina. You wouldn't dream of it," she answered, her very tone betraying the utter untruth in her statement.

"Anyway, do you suppose I could sneak out? You could come with me, Mary. In fact, you can borrow one of my dresses, and we can go out as two ladies to the marketplace."

"And what if you see Mr. Turner?" she asked, smirking. I rolled my eyes.

"If I see him, I'll say hello. But I doubt he'll be out, he's probably boarded himself up in the blacksmith shop or something," I said, walking over to my closet and looking through the dresses. Mary followed my hastily, slipping the corset around my waist and lacing it up tight.

"Bloody hell, Mary! I can't breath, I can barely talk, loosen it up a bit, will you?" I wheezed as she pulled the laces tighter.

"Just wait till I lace up your corset, you little wench," I swore.

She laughed, "You wont be. I don't think its wise for me to go," she said. I spun around and sucked in a breath as the laces came undone.

"Phew," I said, as little black spots danced before my eyes. "These stupid things are death traps, I swear," I muttered as my vision cleared. "Mary, you simply _must_ come. I shan't have any fun if you don't. In fact, ever since I got off Jack's ship, I've had to make my own fun around here, and it really hasn't been going to well!" I continued pleadingly.

She sighed, "I will get in unimaginable amounts of trouble for this," she said lowly.

"What's the worst that could happen? You'll be fired, and then I can invite you to live with me and share all my dresses every day! And you wont have to work anymore!" I said happily, pulling out a dark blue dress for her.

"Oh, Christina, I can't wear that! Its so fancy!" she said, looking at the dress longingly.

I smiled, "You most certainly can wear it, and don't worry, I'll wear a big fancy hat so that you don't look over done," I said. She nodded, fingering the edges of the lace quietly.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Feels like someone's stuck nettles in your knickers, though," I said and Mary looked up, startled.

"Well, I see that your time with pirates has only made you tongue sharper," she said with disbelief. I shrugged.

"Mary, I've got a _brilliant_ idea!" I squealed, grabbing her arm. She motioned for me to turn around so that she could lace up the corset again. She began pulling the laces even tighter than before, but I ignored her and kept talking.

"All right, once we dress you up and go out, we'll come back, right? But I think we could introduce you to my father, he wont even notice that it's you!" I said, giggling. Why I felt so giddy, I'll never know, but I was actually going out and doing something fun! I didn't care that my father was probably having a conniption right now, and if Eleanor had talked, then my name was slandered through the whole town.

"Christina, I think you've lost your mind!" Mary said nervously, but she was smiling either way. "You can't introduce me to your father if I'm impersonating a lady!" she said.

I rolled my eyes, "Mary, you're more of a lady than some of the richest most upper class women in Port Royal. Including me and my sister," I said. She shook her head at me, but grinned. "Now, off with that uniform," I said, picking up the corset that Mary would wear and grinning sadistically. Pay back time. Mary nervously shed her uniform, and stood in her shift.

"Turn around, dear," I said sweetly. She did, and held onto the bed post while I laced up her corset.

"Oh, good God, Christina, I am truly sorry for all the times that I've laced up your corset too tight but please, stop!" she begged, wheezing.

I grinned, "Oh, no. This is what you get for all the times you ignored me when I _begged_ you to loosen the straps…I hope you've learned your lesson," I said.

She groaned, "Okay, okay, I'll only try to kill your sister via corset!" she choked out.

"Do you swear it?"

"Yes! I do, I swear!"

"Swear it by…by promising you let me introduce you to my father when your all dressed up!"

"No! I can't!"

I pulled the laces tighter, "Swear it!"

"I hate you!"

"Mind your tongue, Mary, shame on you," I chided. She tossed me an evil glare and gritted her teeth. "Do you swear?" I asked, loosening the laces very slightly. She took a shuddering breath.

"Oh very well. If I'm fired, its on you and you'll have to support me in my unemployment," she said.

"Done," I said, loosening the laces only slightly again, and then finishing to tie them up.

"That's it? That's all I'm allowed to breath?" Mary whined. I grinned.

"Well, that's all you allowed me," I said. She looked at me pleadingly.

"I'll loosen yours if you loosen mine, please!" she begged.

I raised an eyebrow, "I don't think so. You see, I've grown accustomed to it. But you haven't, and you must if you want to be a lady," I said smugly.

Mary sighed. "Very well. One day you will get what's coming to you, you vile girl," she said, helping me with my dress and then pulling on her borrowed one.

"Let's go," I said, pulling two fans for us and a small hat for her. She looked at me skeptically.

"How am I going to get downstairs without your father seeing me?" she asked.

"I guess we'll just have to find out, now wont we?" I said.

She rolled her eyes as I pulled her along, and crept out of the room. "Okay, I'll go first and head for the door, and then I'll push you out fast, and we'll pray that my father isn't waiting there." I said.

"And what if he is, you royal fool?" she asked nervously.

"Well, I always was able to think well under pressure." I said, shrugging. I walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, and pulled Mary with me. I saw Eleanor with her back to us in another room, and I hurried by. We were nearly to the door, and I pushed Mary in front of me and ran the rest of the way. I'd just gotten the door closed when.

"Where do you think you are going, Christina?" my father boomed from behind me. I turned and pushed my back up against the door, going for 'meek and frightened young girl'.

"I will not lie to you, father, I was going out to the market place." I said quietly, casting my eyes down.

"If you will not lie to me, Christina, would you mind telling me exactly where you were last night, and why you were out so late?" he asked. I bit my lip and looked up with wide eyes.

"Well, I was with Will in Mr. Brown's shop, and Will had made three swords yesterday, and I was just watching him the whole time."

"And it took you until such a late hour?" he asked, looking as if he would explode. I nodded meekly, fighting the insane urge to burst out laughing.

"Well, you usually send a carriage to pick me up so I waited and no one came, so then when we, Will and I, realized that you wouldn't be coming, he walked me home. And its very lucky that he did, because there was a very drunk man who followed me at one point. But Will protected me and got rid of him fast enough," I said, nodding up at my father.

He sighed. "Do you promise that you didn't do anything…improper?" he said, looking very uncomfortable.

"Oh, no, father, I would never do anything of the sort. I know exactly what you expect of me, and the only reason you let me out to see him so often is because you trust me, and I would never ever to anything to betray that trust!" I said, pitching my voice higher with each sentence. I felt like an eight year old, but a woman had to do what a woman had to do, I suppose.

My father smiled at me, "Very well, I believe you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to have a talk with your sister," he said.

He turned to go, but I touched his arm. "Father, may I have some money. I think I may meet a friend of mine and we may go for tea," I said.

He smiled, "Yes, of course. But if this friend is William Turner, he better not let you pay, my dear, it's not proper," he warned.

I looked down, and feigned innocence some more. I was getting quite good at it. "Oh, no, father, it's my dear friend Mary, whom I'd met in London, do you remember? She's been living here for a long time now, and very close to us, and I hadn't seen her until now." I said. I could hear a sharp intake of breath from outside, and I knew Mary would have quite a bone to pick with me once we'd left. My father handed me a bag filled with money and I gave him a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.


	3. The Joy of Having a Sister

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

"What have you done, you stupid girl?" Mary hissed as we walked down the path to the market place. I ignored her, stopping for a moment and turning around.

"You know, I'd rather not walk. Might spoil the dress," I sighed, putting a hand over my stomach and trying very hard to breathe in. Mary crossed her arms over her chest, and then looked down.

"Christina, you simply _must_ unlace this corset, at once! I'm practically popping out of this dress. Its not proper to go out like this in public! What if someone recognizes me?" she said desperately.

"Then they will treat you with the respect as befitting to your station, my dear. After all, you are with me, and as regrettable as it is, I am the governor's daughter. That commands a certain amount of respect," I said disgustedly. It was unbelievably hot outside, and the dress had already begun to itch. But there was no time to think of that now, as our carriage had pulled up, compliments of my father, who was just now, on my twentieth summer, beginning to realize that I, too, am alive; and the world does not revolve around the little rat named Elizabeth.

"Do not worry, dear, it will all be over soon," I said, and she glared at me once again. I sighed and sat back, rattling a bit as the carriage flew over the road. I pulled open the curtain slightly, closing it as Mary yelped when we flew up a few inches because of a rock or something of the sort.

"Mary, you really must control yourself. We're here, out you get," I said, as the driver opened the door. He held out a gloved hand for Mary, grinning at her slyly. She flushed up to the roots of her hair and cast her gaze down. I distinctly heard him say, "Don't worry, my dear, your secret's safe with me."

I grinned and nodded to him as he helped me out. "Mary, if you are to play the part of a stuck up noblewoman, you certainly cannot blush and look away when our driver helps you out of the carriage," I muttered to her. She glared at me and pulled out a fan, being much more skilled with it than I was, and fluttered it by her face.

"I knew this was a horrible idea. This is the last time I ever listen to you," she hissed angrily.

"So you say now," I answered, shrugging. The driver bowed to us, and we nodded, turning to leave. "So, where do you want to go first?" I asked, a smile on my face. Mary made no sound, only looked around nervously, anticipating whether or not someone would recognize her. I sighed. "Why don't we go look at dresses?" I asked dryly, and she turned to meet my gaze.

"Could we really?" she asked eagerly. I sighed. Another Elizabeth, ready to torture me, I presume.

"Why not? The dress shop is certainly _my _favorite place in the world," I said sarcastically. The sarcasm flew right over her head and hit someone behind her, judging from the odd look I received. Mary nodded, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

"Oh, thank you so much, Christina! I've always fancied the dresses you wore, but never had the opportunity to wear one!" she said, practically squealing. I nodded glumly, and walked off to the dress shop, where I'd gone with my sister more times than I care to remember.

When we walked in, a dove greeted us at the door. Mary cooed to it, and picked up a seed from tray next to the cage, delicately offering it to the animal. Already she was picking up the parts of acting as a lady should, softly talking to the bird in a sweet voice.

"Ah, Miss Swann, so nice to see you again, where is your lovely sister?" the owner of the shop, Mrs. Dawson said, bustling over.

I smiled, "Nice to see you too, Mrs. Dawson. Unfortunately, Elizabeth hasn't left the house since she returned, except at that pirate's execution, which, as you know, never quite worked out," I said.

The older woman's face darkened. "Ah, yes. What a shame that scoundrel escaped, no doubt off to traumatize more delicate women. And Elizabeth, the poor dear, do tell her that I wish her well and hope to see her soon. And you dear, weren't you off with those pirates, and Mr. Turner?" she asked, looking at me sharply. I looked down.

"Yes, I was."

Mrs. Dawson smiled thinly. "But you must know that it isn't a woman's place to go out with a band or rogues. Shame on Mr. Turner, letting you come along. He should know better."

The woman was beginning to get annoying. "I'm afraid that it is not the place to talk about such things, Mrs. Dawson. Especially now, when I'm just happy to have my sister back at home," I said. So glad to have her here, making my life miserable again. Mrs. Dawson nodded.

"I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Mary. She came here from London a bit earlier than I did, and has been hiding away on the other side of town. I've only just become reacquainted with her a few weeks ago," I said, motioning for Mary to walk over. Mary's cheeks tinged pink, and she nodded at Mrs. Dawson, who squinted back at her.

"Have you come here before? You look awfully familiar, my dear," the older woman said. Mary looked stunned and shook her head vigorously. I sighed.

"Mary's terribly shy, Mrs. Dawson, but no, I don't believe you have met her before. She rarely leaves her mansion," I said, laying it on real thick. Mary'd have my head for this later.

"Oh, and why's that, my dear? A pretty thing like you would want to get out. I'm sure you have many suitors lined up, how will you keep them all entertained?"

"That's very bold, Mrs. Dawson," I said warningly. The woman smiled at me. She was the type of woman at Port Royal who always knew all the gossip, and generally from primary sources. As the owner of the best dress shop, it is understandable. She was highly capable of making friendly conversation as she measured women for their dresses, and every woman on the island wanted to be on Mrs. Dawson's good side as she was the finest seamstress Port Royal had to offer.

"Yes, I live ever so far away, that I'd have to take a carriage to get here. And I fear that I feel ill every time I come near one," Mary was saying, her voice timid, but I could tell that she was doing her very best at lying. I was so proud of her. I hid a smile as Mrs. Dawson ate the whole thing up.

"Poor dear. Well, I'm happy that you could come today. Anything in particular that you're interested in?" she asked. We walked throughout the shop, and Mary ran her hands over every fabric imaginable, cooing and gasping and sighing at nearly every one. Now, as much as I detest being in this store, with all the gossip that I am subjected to, it really isn't all that bad. The dresses are beautiful, and as much as I despise the typical reaction that I have to it, I really do enjoy shopping. Mary and I must have walked through the shop three times, and she told me that she'd never dreamed that dresses could come in so many colors. There were red dresses, cream dresses, green dresses, gray dresses, orange, yellow, pink, striped, printed, flowered, long sleeves, short sleeves, off the shoulder and coifed, embroidered and jeweled, and Mary nearly got teary eyed at each and every one.

"They're so beautiful," she sighed. I frowned, feeling terrible that she looked at them so longingly.

"I'll buy you one, Mary," I said. She looked up sharply.

"You mustn't!"

"And why not? Mary, you've done so much for me over the years," I said, lowering my voice. Mrs. Dawson looked up, and then looked down, pretending that she wasn't listening. I didn't particularly care.

"When I would sneak out to visit Will, you kept my secret. I do owe you," I whispered.

Mary shook her head. "You've done enough already," she protested.

"No. Consider it an early Christmas gift, dear. Now which dress do you like?" I asked. Mary shook her head, but I'd seen her eyeing the gray one, fingering its lacy edges and its corset embroidered with navy blue. Along the collar, which was really off the shoulder, there were tiny pearls sewn in, and the sleeves were silk and tight. It really was magnificent.

"Mrs. Dawson," I called, and the woman hurried over quickly.

"I'll take that gray one, for my dearest friend, and the lavender for me," I said, and she hurried to take them down.

"Jerome!" she called towards that back of the shop. I heard someone shouting back, muffled, and Mrs. Dawson sighed and turned to me.

"I'll have them delivered to your home, Miss Swann, if that boy ever gets moving," she said with a nervous smile. I nodded and turned to Mary.

"You shouldn't have done that, Christina," she said slowly. I shrugged and was about to answer when Jerome bounded out from the back of the shop.

"What is it, Mother? I've been working for the whole bleeding day," he asked tiredly, and then looked up to meet my eyes.

"Mind your tongue, boy, cant you see we have customers? And the Governor's daughter, too!" Mrs. Dawson scolded, whapping her son over the head with a rag. He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, Miss Swann, I didn't see you," he said.

"Please, don't trouble yourself about it," I said. _And stop bloody calling me Miss Swann_, I thought angrily. I'd known Jerome since Elizabeth had gotten obsessed with dresses, and all he'd done was tease me about her great beauty, and my great lack. It had gotten so bad, once, that I'd punched him in the nose. After that he never teased me again, and we'd both had bruises for weeks, mine on my hand, and him on his face. He'd told his mother that he'd fallen off the rafters while checking inventory. I had to tell my father that I'd got my hand caught in the door.

"And who is this, might I ask, Miss Swann?" Jerome said, looking at Mary. He brushed his sandy blond hair out of his eyes, which were roving in emerald tracks up and down her, finally resting on her face. She blushed and looked away, and I grinned.

"This is my dearest friend, Mary," I said.

"Does Mary have a last name?" Jerome said slyly, earning a glare from his mother. Mary looked up shyly and answered.

"Pearl," she whispered.

Jerome smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Pearl," he said, bowing to her and catching my eye. I sighed and grabbed her arm.

"Thank you for the dresses, Mrs. Dawson. See you soon, I hope. And with Elizabeth, too," I said, dragging Mary out the door.

"Mary, love, you really mustn't go to mush when some bloke asks your name. You just told him your last name…not the wisest thing to be done!" I said. She glared at me.

"No, I didn't. I told him my mother's maiden name. My last name is Porter," she said.

"Close enough," I growled, walking quickly away from there.

She sighed. "I'm in trouble now, aren't I?" she asked. We sat down outside a shop, I was so distracted I didn't realize where we were.

"I don't see why you should be in trouble. You aren't doing anything wrong," I said. She looked at me as if I had two heads.

"Nothing wrong? Christina, I'm impersonating a lady, and skipping work, and wearing your one of your dresses!" she said. As if it were the end of the world.

"Actually, that dress is Elizabeth's," I said. Mary's eyes widened.

"Have you gone _mad_! You gave me one of _her_ dresses? I'm as good as dead, now," she moaned. I shrugged.

"You worry too much. If you get found out, I'll tell my father it was my idea. He'll have to believe me, because it's just natural for me to cause trouble," I said. "How about we go for a cup of tea?" I asked, standing up. Suddenly the door behind me opened up, and out walked my sister, followed by Will. It was then that I realized that Mary and I had been sitting outside of Mr. Brown's smithy.

"Oh!" Mary and Will said.

"What are you doing here?" my sister and I asked.

"Why are you with her?" Elizabeth and Mary asked, Mary asking Will, and Elizabeth asking me. I looked at Will, who looked a bit embarrassed, and then at Elizabeth.

"What have you done?" I said to her, through clenched teeth. She stared at me icily.

"Father needed to drop off and order for Mr. Brown, and since _Mary_ wasn't anywhere to be found, I offered to do it. I need to visit Mrs. Dawson, anyway," she said. I looked at Will, who was looking at me, and then looked away.

"Oh, really, is that it?" I asked. Elizabeth nodded.

"You've not done a great job of looking _innocent_," I snapped.

"Oh please, Christina, as if I'd want anything that had belonged to you," Elizabeth snapped.

"That's my dress you're wearing," I said coldly. Elizabeth blinked. "And my necklace," I hissed, my voice breaking. Because really, it didn't matter to me that she had taken my dress, or my necklace, but it just proved her disregard for things that were _mine_. Like Will's heart. Although now I was wondering if I really had that at all. No, wait, I'd _been_ wondering that for a while now.

"Yes, and what is your little friend wearing? I believe that dress is mine," Elizabeth said smartly.

"And would you look at that, your friend looks awfully familiar, Christina. Perhaps if she'd stayed back at the mansion where she _belonged_, I wouldn't have had to come all the way here and visit dear Mr. Turner," she said.

"If you breathe one _word_ of this to father, I swear I'll rip your heart out and _feed_ it to you," I growled. Will looks surprised that such death threats could fly between siblings, but Elizabeth merely raised an eyebrow.

"As if I haven't heard that from you before, Christina. Besides, I think I've got something much better than the satisfaction of telling father how one of his maids skived off to impersonate someone that she'd never become, don't you think? It's been nice talking to you, Will," she said sweetly. I watched her as she walked away, and found myself wishing that she'd spontaneously combust. No such luck, my sister got into her carriage and drove away.

"Christina, I -" Will said. I looked up at him with wide eyes, and it vaguely registered how Mary was fidgeting nervously by my side.

"I didn't do anything I swear, all she did was drop off the request for the sword," he said quickly. I looked away, needing to believe him so badly, especially after the row we'd had last night.

"Do you promise?" I whispered. I felt him touch my chin lightly and make me look into his yes. "

Yes, I promise, I love you," he said. I sighed and nodded, and watched as he leaned down to kiss me. And as much as I wanted him to, I turned my head to the side and felt his lips brush softly over my cheek. Something felt wrong, and I wished that I could get that horrible feeling out of the pit of my stomach. I met his eyes again, and saw that he was being honest, or else was a very good actor.

"I'll see you around, Will, Mary and I have some more shopping to do," I said.

"But I heard you say that you were going for a cup of tea," he said, grabbing my arm. I smiled weakly, still trying to get my heart to believe what he'd just promised me. "Could I come with you?" he asked. Mary nudged me in the side and nodded, but I slowly shook my head.

"Don't you have some orders to work on, Will? Two days, and then come by they mansion and we'll have lunch, all right? Mary and I, we just need some girl time," I said quietly. He nodded, and perhaps it was just my hopeful imagination, but he looked at bit pale.

"Alright," he said hoarsely. I bit my lip and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek - the one that Elizabeth _hadn't_ gotten her tramp's lips all over.

"See you around, Will," I said, walking away. Part of me was wishing that he'd run after me, but he didn't. I heard the door to the blacksmith shop slam as Mary and I walked down the street.

"Well, _I _believed him," Mary said, as we sat down at a nice outdoor table and awaited our tea. I sighed and fumbled with the edge of my fan, that was sitting closed in my lap.


	4. Let the Games Begin

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Mary and I decided to return back to the mansion shortly after having tea. I was dreading coming face to face with Elizabeth, considering how I was just _itching _to rip off her face and feed it to the pigs in Tortuga.

But anyway, yes, so we got up and turned to go to the road where our carriage was sure to be waiting for us. But, alas, being as how I am me and I have been sentenced to having no luck but the worst luck, the carriage was not there.

"Oh dear, we're going to have to walk," I said, sighing. Mary glared at me, "You are kidding right? I cant even breathe in this damned corset, how do you expect me to walk back to the mansion?" she demanded.

I grinned, "Well, I guess you'll just have to manage, dear, I did it last night, in the dark too."

"Never again," Mary grumbled.

I sighed and we began our hike, Mary huffing and puffing all the way, frequently having to stop and breathe. I sighed and stood next to her, my hand on my hip. It was on one of her longer breaks that I noticed Jerome running up behind us.

"Miss Swann, Miss Pearl," he said, flamboyantly bowing. I smacked the back of his head with my money bag, and he glared at me. "That hurts, you little wench," he snapped, rubbing the back of his head.

I grinned, "A wench am I, Jerome ? After that whole load of respect you fed me just now?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes, "That was more for Miss Pearl's sake than for yours, Christina," he said, turning to Mary, who blanched.

"Er, hello Mr. Dawson," she stammered, flushing up to her hairline, which made her look like a cherry in a dress. He smiled and took her gloved hand, kissing her knuckles flirtatiously.

"Call me Jerome," he said, in what he must have assumed was fetching. I cleared my throat.

"As entertaining as it is for me to watch you make a flying arse out of yourself, Jerome, Mary and I really must be going," I said. He glared at me again.

"Mary, do I have the pleasure of calling you that?" he asked. I rolled my eyes and started marching. Mary knew the way home, she could follow whenever it tickled her fancy. I hadn't had quite the day where it would be enjoyable for me to watch a blooming courtship. No, any other day would be fine, but Jeremy particularly had to choose the day when I discovered my fiancé and my sister in a rather compromising situation.

Although, I think I am being rather ridiculous on several accounts. Mary, being my best friend, should take priority over my own stupid problems. This coming to mind, I halted and decided to wait for her. Also, Will and Elizabeth could have been completely innocent in their endeavors, but given his history with her - being completely besotted - and her history in general - being completely possessive of everything on God's green earth - it is easy to see why I was so suspicious.

Mary finally decided to stop dithering and came up to walk with me. She took out her fan and fanned at her neck. I sighed, "Come on, dear, we still have to get you into the house without my father realizing who you really are."

No such luck. As soon as we opened the door, there was my father, waiting for us.

"Oh, hello Father," I chirped happily, ignoring how Mary made a sort of strangled noise.

"Hello, Christina, how was your day on the town? Pleasant I hope," piped up my ratty sister's voice from behind me.

My father smiled warmly, and nodded, "Yes, how was your day, dear?" he asked. I think I must have been pale as I looked over his shoulder at Elizabeth, because she said, with a sick smile on her face, "Christina, you look rather ill, are you sure your all right?"

"I'm fine. My day was fine. Father, allow me to introduce my _dearest_ friend, Mary. She's so much like the sister I never had. I'm surprised I hadn't been able to introduce her earlier," I said through clenched teeth.

My father chuckled, "You too aren't bickering again, are you?" he asked. Oh, if he only knew.

"No, of course not, Father. In fact, now that I'm back, safe and sound, Christina and I are closer than ever." Elizabeth said. "We share everything," her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"_Almost_ everything," I snapped. Mary looked like she was about to faint, I noticed out of the corner of my eye. Elizabeth's smile widened and she flounced up the stairs into our room.

"Now, really, Christina, you spent an awfully long time in town, what did you do?" I cleared my throat.

"Mary and I went to Mrs. Dawson's shop and bought a dress each -" I started to say.

"Oh, good. Its lovely to finally see you getting interesting in more appropriate things for a young girl like yourself. Really, now, all that about pirates, you had me worried for a while. I had hoped you would grow out of it," he said.

"Yes," I said rather dryly. "And then we walked down the street and it was the _strangest_ thing, but we ran into Elizabeth. And would you guess where she was, Father? She was with Will, in Mr. Brown's smithy," I said, trying to ignore the hurt that crept into my voice. Mary put a hand on my shoulder and I turned to her and nodded.

"Pleased to meet you, Governor Swann," she said quietly, curtsying. "I really must be going, hope to see you soon, Christina," she added, leaving quickly. My father nodded and turned back to me.

"Perhaps we should lend her our carriage?" he suggested. I shook my head vigorously.

"Oh, no, she arranged for her carriage to pick her up," I answered.

"Nice girl…she looks a bit familiar, but the all the ladies are wearing the same fashion, I suppose. I say, doesn't Elizabeth have the very same dress?" he asked. I swallowed hard, and coughed.

"I guess it wasn't as one-of-a-kind as Mrs. Dawson promised," I said nervously. My father nodded.

"Now, what were you saying about Will and your sister? Oh yes, I remember. I sent her there to drop off a request for a sword," my father said absently. "But, Father, you _knew_ that I was going into town. I could have delivered it myself," I whined. He looked sharply at me.

"Christina, I really do not see the problem. Elizabeth would never do anything unbecoming of a woman. Do you really trust her so little?" he asked. I groaned.

"Do you not remember that two weeks ago, when she was ready to go off and marry him? Choosing him over her long time suitor, Commodore Norrington? I think it is safe to say that loyalty, to a man or even to her very own _sister_, is not one of her finer points," I said sadly. My father looked angry for a moment, and then his face softened.

"Christina, if you do not trust Elizabeth, then you should trust Will. And if you cannot, maybe you should rethink your plans to marry him," he said softly. He touched my chin and forced me to look up. I must have looked like I was about to cry. "If you ask me, I think Will made the right choice. Somehow, he does not seem completely compatible with your sister," he said, so lowly that I could barely hear him. I bit my lip.

"You look just like your mother," he said absently, the last part more to himself. It was the first time I'd heard him talk about her since we were on the Dauntless, and he was throwing me into the Commodore's office. He nodded and turned to walk away, leaving me alone in the atrium of the mansion. I looked up at the stairway, and realized that Elizabeth was still in her room. I frowned and headed quietly up the stairs.

"What is the matter with you, you little wretch!" I said angrily, storming into the room that I shared with Elizabeth. She jumped up from the bed, where Eleanor was braiding my sister's hair. I saw Elizabeth wince as Eleanor forgot to let go, and she fell back onto the bed.

I glared at Eleanor. "OUT!" I ordered, and the little idiot nearly tripped over her skirts in an effort to run out of the room. I had check to see if my father was out in the gardens, which he was, and then I turned to Elizabeth again. She was by the door, no doubt ready to run and tell my father how I was about to assault her. Which I was.

Unreasonable fury seeped through me, and I wouldn't be surprised if I had lost my mind completely. I picked up a vase from the night table and hurled it at the door. It shattered, and Elizabeth squealed, and ran for a fire poker.

"How could you!" I shrieked, running to her and tackling her.

"GET OFF ME YOU FOOL!" she bellowed, and I ignored her and grabbed a handful of her pretty little braid and pulled. She shrieked and tossed about, knocking me over and scratching my cheek. I felt something warm trickle down my neck and stared at her in surprise.

"You scratched me!" I said indignantly. "I'm bleeding!"

"That's what you get, you cruel sister," she said snottily. I sat up and grabbed a book that had found its way to the floor, and chucked it at her. It hit her in the nose. "CHRISTINA! I'M GOING TO BE BRUISHED!" she screeched. I got to my feet and pushed her.

"Serves you right, you sniveling little bug! How dare you go to Will, wearing _that!" _I said, kicking her in the shin. She lashed out and smacked me across the face.

"Well its better than going there for fencing lessons in a shift, you tramp!" she snarled.

"BUT HE WASN'T YOUR BLOODY FIANCE WHEN I DID THAT!" I roared, pulling her hair again. She squealed and batted my hands away, and I kicked her in the leg. She went tumbling down and grabbed onto _my_ hair, taking me down with her.

I heard someone storm into the room, and grab me up. "Miss Swann, what _are _you doing?" I heard a male's voice ask. I craned my neck around and saw a man with a pony tail and gray eyes holding me back. "Who the bleeding hell are you?" I snapped, struggling to get free. He wouldn't let me go, so I stomped on his foot until he did. Then I lunged at my sister again, practically hissing.

"Miss Swann! And Miss Swann! You must stop!" I heard Mary say, rushing in dressed in her uniform. The man grabbed me by my shoulders again, and Mary held back Elizabeth.

"I hate you, Elizabeth, I truly do!" I seethed, struggling again. The desire to hit her stupid face was nearly overwhelming.

"I'm so hurt," she sneered.

"What is the MATTER WITH YOU?" I demanded. "Will is _my fiancé!"_

"Well then you're just going to have to teach them the meaning of fidelity, now aren't you?" she asked, her lip curling in a mean smile. I fought the urge to cry. I would _not_ cry in front of her.

"Elizabeth, Will loves _me_. Nothing you can do will change that," I said, trying to put as much belief into that statement as the words demanded. She didn't smile.

"Then why are you so angry?" she asked.


	5. Sabotage of The Sibling

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I wanted everything to go perfect, I really did. I mean, as perfect as it could on my part, because God knows what Elizabeth shall do to ruin everything. I went first to the cook, Old Rose, and asked her to make a picnic basket for Will and I. I asked for wine and cheese, bread, and small fruits. Simple things, really. She was all too happy to comply, because I'd given her a good amount of money.

Then I went to Mary and decided to ask her two favors. One, that I could borrow her silver dress, which Jeremy had finally ended up delivering shortly after we had finished dinner. As fond as I was of the lavender dress I bought, the silver one was really magnificent. Mary obliged quite happily, assuring me that I would look quite stunning in the silver dress.

"I'll buy you another one, Mary, I promise, because I feel awful that I'm wearing your dress before you," I said, but Mary shrugged it off and asked me what my second favor was going to be.

"Listen," I whispered from behind the screen that was around my bath. Mary just made a little tutting sound as she hurried around my room, opening the bed and putting that hot pans underneath the blankets. Elizabeth was out in the gardens, picking flowers to wear in her hair or what not.

"I know that Elizabeth is planning to do something awful to me tomorrow, and so I am not going to let her get away with it. So, when Will comes over for tea…well…do you think you could…oh I don't know -put vinegar in her tea…salt her scones…"

Mary sighed and came in with a robe, handing it to me and walking out again. "Christina, I really thing you're taking this too far. What if she doesn't do anything to you? It'll be rather harsh for you to punish her like this."

I came out from behind the screen in my nightgown, my hair hanging wet down my back. "That's just the point. To punish her. How dare she go over there, and try to seduce Will like that! Its just an awful thing to do! And she has got to learn that she cant have everything she wants, she cant always have her way!" I said angrily.

Mary sighed again. "But the blame is not on her alone," she said. I looked at her sharply. "I mean, yes, most of it is because she shouldn't be making a minx of herself at all…but what about Will? He loves you, I'm sure of that, but if he goes along than he is as much to blame as she is," Mary said. And damn it she was right, but I did not want to believe that.

"But if she never tempted him…then he wouldn't have - "

"You can't know that," Mary said.

"But I _do! _He said he loved me!" I whispered, even though I didn't believe myself. Mary picked up a brush from my bed table and ran it through my hair, gently combing out all the knots and braiding it so it would be wavy for tomorrow.

"Christina, if you do all the things that you want to do to her, you'll be just as bad. And Will didn't fall in love with someone like your sister, he fell in love with you. If you ask me, the only way you'll win is if you have faith in yourself, and trust in him. Maybe you should tell him how you feel -"

"No! Mary, if I tell him how afraid I am that Elizabeth will take him away, he'll think that I don't trust him -"

"Do you?"

"Yes! I mean…Will…I don't think he'd lie to me. Not intentionally, unless he wanted to keep me from getting hurt…or maybe because he'd just feel very uncomfortable lying to me…after all we are best friends…"

"And now you are engaged," Mary prompted. I gave her an irritated look, but went on.

"It's her I don't trust. How can she hate me so much, Mary? She's my sister…did I ever tell you what we talked about on the island where we were marooned with Jack? We talked the way we used to, before mother ran away…she asked me if I loved him, and I said yes. When I asked her, she didn't answer, because the Commodore had come to save us…But she knew I loved him."

"And you know the way she is…perhaps she doesn't realize it, but she _always_ puts herself before everyone else. Maybe she doesn't see what she's doing is wrong," Mary said.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked incredulously. "She called it witchcraft when Will chose me over her. I think it implies that she knows the lengths she's willing to go to get him are wrong."

Mary sighed for the fourth time. "If you really truly want me to, I'll go through with your plans. But I don't think any good will come of it, Christina…I think you should trust Will, and trust yourself. Talk to him," Mary said, getting up to blow out the candles. I bit my lip, and tried to make up my mind. I felt a bit uneasy about going through with the sabotage of my sister, but I knew that if I was in her place I wouldn't do all the things she was planning on doing.

Mary was heading to leave and still I had not given her my decision. Should I trust Will? Could I trust him, without getting hurt? Mary said to have faith in myself, but how could I do that when all my life Elizabeth's been the prettier one, Elizabeth's been the one with all the suitors and all the marriage proposals. She's even been courted by the Commodore, who, next to my father, was one of the most influential people in Port Royal. And after all that, when I finally found someone who I could love, she wanted to take him away.

"Mary, I don't know what to do…I'm still so angry at her. But I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. So don't…I'll leave her be. I'll trust Will," I said. Mary smiled and closed the door on her way out.

I tried to go to sleep for the longest time. Shortly after Mary left, Elizabeth walked in and placed flowers by my bed. Then she went to bed. I couldn't even begin to contemplate what she meant by that, and decided to ignore it. After tossing and turning, lighting a candle and attempting to read, blowing out the candle and counting sheep I still couldn't sleep. I even picked up the flowers that Elizabeth gave me and smelled them, plucked the petals of one daisy and then put them back down.

This turned out to be a mistake because as soon as I put the flowers down, I sneezed. And sneezed. And my eyes started to water and my nose got completely stuffed.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" I said thickly, grabbing the flowers and tossing them out the window. I went out of the room and wandered through the mansion, eventually ending up in the kitchen. I walked as quietly as I could to the maids quarters, where Anita, Old Rose's daughter, lay sleeping. I knelt by the bed and hoped she wouldn't be made at me when I woke her.

"Anita, wake up!" I hissed. She opened one eye groggily and looked at me.

"Yes, miss? What are you doing here?" she said, obviously irritated.

"Anita, I'm so sorry to be waking you up at this hour, but there's a favor I have to ask," I said. She nodded glumly, sitting up.

I whispered my favor to her and she smiled giddily as I said it. She looked at me with wide eyes. "What a funny sight that'll be," she said happily. I handed her a sash from my hair, made of fine silk and red dye, and she smiled, tucking it into the front of her nightdress. "Thank you, miss," she said, laying down to go to sleep again.

I went back to bed and this time when I lay down, even though I could hardly breathe, I fell asleep almost right away. If Elizabeth wanted to play games with me, I'd just have to play along. Still, that didn't explain the sense of foreboding I had. I wondered if Elizabeth was feeling ill about this too, but somehow I doubted it. I sighed, just wishing that for once she could behave like a real sister to me, wishing I could behave the same in turn.

Mary woke me the next morning by shaking me harshly. "Wake up, Miss Swann! Wake up! Its nearly noon!" she said. I bolted up.

"What!" I gasped, tossing the blankets off and hurrying in front of my mirror to hurriedly brush my hair. Mary grabbed my arms.

"Never mind that, miss, I'll do your hair for you in a moment. But get dressed - oy, do hurry! That ruddy sister of yours, she told your father that you weren't feeling well, and he wouldn't let me in to wake you! He said to let you sleep!" she mumbled, pulling off my robe and dumping it on the bed. I hurried behind the screen to pull on my shift and Mary scampered up behind me to lace my corset.

"Oh, Mary, not so tight, I can hardly breathe as it is," I groaned, gasping for breath.

"That sister of yours, she'll stop at nothing, will she? I cant believe she put those flowers there, and now you're all stuffed up, poor dear…and she took -" Mary stopped off and hurried away to the closet, pulling out a dress.

"Mary, what did she take?" I asked. Mary said nothing only laid the dress on my bed and gestured to it. "Mary…where's the silver dress?" I asked, hoping against hope that it wasn't what my sister decided to take.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss, but she took it! And it would have looked so lovely on you too! I tried to get it back, I really did, but she said she would have told on me when I went to the town in her dress. She said she'd have me fired!" Mary cried, her head in her hands. I stood there dumbly, and then hurried over to her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"Don't cry, Mary, dear, she wont tell. And if she does, I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you because of it," I said quietly as Mary cried.

"Why is she so cruel?" Mary asked, wiping her eyes.

"That's what I'd like to know. Well, there's nothing to be done for it now, I suppose," I said, my nose inhibiting my speech. I turned and walked to the bed where Mary had laid out my lavender dress. "This really is a lovely dress," I said lightly, trying to make the best of it. Mary sighed and picked it up, helping me into it and lacing up the back.

"Not as lovely as the silver one. I'm so sorry I couldn't get it back, Christina, I really am," she said. I smiled halfheartedly.

"I'm not upset with you in the least, Mary. After all, its my fault you couldn't get it back. Next time we go to the town, we'll have to be more careful," I said. Mary mustn't have heard, because she didn't respond.

"There is one thing that I saved from her, though." Mary handed me the necklace Jack had given me, the beautiful necklace made of black pearls. I held my hair up, still messy as it were, as she fastened the necklace in the back. "There you go, miss. At least you have something now," she said. I grinned and turned around as she began to hastily comb and braid back my hair in a simple French braid.

She glared at me as I winced and motioned for me to turn around, quickly powdering my face. "There, at least your nose don't look so red now, but nothing will cover up that awful scratch on your face," she said.

"You really ought not to be so tactful, Mary, it's misleading," I said sarcastically. She turned me around and pushed me to the door.

"Your husband is waiting," she teased. I grinned over my shoulder, my heart pounding wildly, and ran down the stairs to meet Will.

"Will!" I called from the top of the one of the landings. He looked up and smiled at me, and I hurried down the rest of the stairs to stand before him. He looked amazing, wearing some of the clothes that he'd worn the day Jack got away, only not as ritzy. He wasn't wearing the hat or the cape, or the sword. The top of his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, his tan chest free for my view. And view it I did, my knees nearly trembling with the affect he had on me. Unfortunately, before I got to him, Elizabeth walked in with a basket over her arm. She looked beautiful in Mary's silver dress. Her waist was narrow and the dress fanned out in gray silk and silver satin, the intricate patterns of flowers that were embroidered were as delicate as she looked. She had her hair done up and a pearl necklace on her neck. The pearls were tiny and perfectly formed, and in that instant I thought they put my pearls to shame. My black pearls that Jack Sparrow had given me - I felt horrible just thinking that I wanted to have the pretty ones that Elizabeth had.

She also had pearls in her ears, and light powder on, that hid the bruise on her nose from everyone who didn't know it was there. The top of her dress was embroidered also with tiny pearls and when she walked in I saw how his eyes ticked to her, over her face, and then over her dress - although I'm willing to wager that Will wasn't taking in the beauty of the dress as much as he was taking in the beauty of my sister.

I stopped where I was standing as she walked in, as much under the influence of her presence as he was. And I despised that fact. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to walk up to him, and he looked at me vaguely before looking back at my sister. She smiled at him, a small, knowing smile. He didn't smile, a small victory for me, unless it was due to the fact that he was too much in awe of her that he'd lost control over the muscles in his face.

I cleared my throat quietly, my face burning because I'd had to do that in order for him to look at me. Which he did, and then he smiled. But the smile quickly turned into a frown as he spotted the mark on my face. He reached a hand up to lightly brush the scratch marks with his fingers, and I trembled involuntarily. Bad enough that Elizabeth had come in and stolen the attention in the room once again, but now I couldn't even stay still while Will touched me. How mortifying.

"What happened to you?" he asked, looking concerned. I could have laughed.

"Scratch," I said simply, desperately unwilling to bring up the situation in front of Elizabeth. I turned to her and it took every ounce of control I had in me not to slap her right there.

"Thank you so much, Elizabeth, it was so kind of you to see Will and I out," I said, reaching for the basket. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes glared at me icily. I returned her glare. Will just looked confused as he reached down to take my hand. When he held my hand it was like something warm had floated its way over me. I took the basket from Elizabeth and turned to him. He looked at me for a long moment, and this time Elizabeth had to clear her throat to be noticed. I blinked and stared at her.

"Yes?" I said. Her cheeks colored and she looked down. When she looked up, she was looking at Will.

"Have a nice time," she said, dimpling at him again. I bit my tongue and turned to go, and Will gently took the basket from me. He let go of my hand to open the door, and I walked out, uttering a quiet "Thank you," as I went.

He followed me and took my hand again. "So, where are we going?" he asked as we walked down the path out of my mansion. I sighed and shrugged and we started walking down the road, away from the town and away from the mansion. Where we were headed, I don't know, but we just walked on in silence for a while.

"Are you alright?" Will asked as we came to a spot overlooking the sea. I said nothing, only walked a bit further and decide that it would be a good place to stay, right by the ocean, on the beach. I pulled out a blanket from the basket, and laid it down gently on the sand. There was a breeze from the sea and as I felt it wash over me, it almost comforted my into being completely at ease. Almost.

I sat down and motioned for him to sit next to me. We were pretty far from the shore, so the waves were a dull sound as were the gulls. There was a tree behind us, casting some shade. It really was a nice spot to picnic.

"I didn't get much sleep last night," I said, reaching for the basket and pulling out a bottle of wine and two finely crafted goblets. I was sitting with my dress fanned out around me, Will was across from me. I carefully poured him a goblet full of wine, and handed it to him. He took a sip and I was aware of him looking at me. I didn't look up, only concentrated on pouring myself something to drink.

A breeze rippled my dress and the thin tendrils of hair that had come out of my braid while we were walking. Will put down his goblet and I finally looked up.

"You look beautiful," he said softly. My eyes widened slightly and I couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Thank you," I said. "So do you." I swear I could have killed myself for my idiocy. Will smiled and opened the basket to take out some food. He pulled out strawberries wrapped in a white cloth, their red juicy turning blotches of it pink. He pulled out pieces of cheese, cut into cubes and arranged on a plate. He pulled out the finest looking loaf of freshly baked bread I'd ever seen, and he pulled out other assortments of finger food. My stomach growled loudly, and Will laughed. He arranged the food on the plate, seeing as how I was immobile, and moved to sit next to me. I felt like such fool for not being able to say something remotely intelligent. At least when I would go with him to the blacksmith's shop, I'd have something to say once in a while. But here, the silence was almost deafening, the crash of the waves on the shore far too loud, the cries of the gulls far too obnoxious.

Having nothing else to do, I took a strawberry and bit into it. It was sweet and tangy and delicious, but also very juicy and I didn't seem to know that it is probably best not to eat while on your first official outing with you significant other. The red juice spilled down my chin and if I hadn't already made a fool out of myself, I certainly made a fool of myself now. Will, however, didn't seem to find my actions completely brainless. He smiled at me and leaned closer and let me tell you that I had to fight not to choke on that strawberry.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Swann?" he asked in a low voice. My eyes widened yet again and I gasped out, "No!" but his lips closed over mine and he slowly kissed away any of the juice that had spilled from the strawberry.

I will never again eat strawberries in his presence. Or perhaps strawberries are the only thing I'll eat in his presence, if it makes him so eager to kiss me like that…

He didn't let up, only pulled away once to smile devilishly at me, and then kiss me again. And as much as I wanted to ask him to slow down, that I wanted to talk, maybe, and ask him about what Elizabeth had said when she visited him at the shop, I really, really couldn't. Not only because my lips were otherwise occupied, but because I was frightened it would annoy him too much for me to constantly be harping about my sister. I didn't want to always be worried about the mutual attraction they'd shared for each other, but I didn't know any way to learn how to ignore it.

It was lucky for me that he pulled away and we ate in silence for a while. Sometimes he would pause just to look at me, smile at me, or tuck a stray hair behind my ear, but mostly we would just munch on the lovely food that Anita had prepared. And do I need to tell you how good it tasted? The food was wonderful, even though it was just cheese and fruit and bread et cetera. Every bite was exploding with taste, the sweet-tart of the strawberry, the coolness of the wine, the bitter cheese and the soft baked taste of the bread…everything was enhanced today and I didn't know why or how. The wind felt soothing and calming, the ocean like a constant reminder of serenity. I wasn't thinking at all of Elizabeth for the moment, only of the happiness of just sitting in the shade on a blanket with Will, who would steal opportunities to kiss my lips or my cheeks, or my neck or my forehead.

But, of course, serenity has to come to an end at some moment and unfortunately the moment it ended was the moment we decided to speak.

"So," Will said, "How did you really get that scratch on your cheek, love?"

A raging seagull.

A vengeful maid.

Someone dropped a fork on me.

Anything, anything - except for the fact that Elizabeth and I were fighting over Will.

"My sister, actually," I said. Will raised an eyebrow and I continued. "We…got into a fight."

"About what?" he asked. I bit my lip.

"Nothing in particular." Will looked at me suspiciously and then out at the sea. "Alright, it was sort of about, er…you, as it were," I said.

He looked up sharply. "About me?" Gee, he's sure chock full of questions today. I nodded, my face burning again, and looked away. He slid his arm around me and tugged me closer, reaching up to undo the braid in my hair.

"Will!" I scolded, trying to grab onto the braid before it came loose. He took my hand and kissed it and that was it for my braid - and for my mind. I sighed irritably and pulled my hand away.

"I like your hair better this way," he said. I met his eyes and tried very hard to understand all these mixed signals. Either he'd gotten hit on the head really hard today and forgotten the fact that I'd seen him in compromising positions the Miss Swann who _wasn't_ me, or he'd thought I'd forgiven him. And I wasn't doing a good job of showing that I hadn't forgiven him, but he really does have a knack for getting hit on the head.

Will leaned closer until he was sitting behind me and wrapping his arms around my corseted waist. Now if it wasn't enough of a challenge to breathe, what, with my allergy ridden nose and the sodding corset, now I had to deal with the assault on my senses as he held me and kissed my neck, and then behind my ear (considerably worse effect than kissing my neck) and then my cheek. And when I tried to turn around to tell him to stop because I was going to have heart failure, he kissed me on the lips. So I guess it proves that Will loves me and not Little Miss Pouty Lips. And with that realization I also came to know that he was kissing my unease away. If only I didn't have to go back to the mansion where Elizabeth was planning God knows what.


	6. A Tea Party

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Walking back to the mansion with Will was at the same time incredibly pleasant and unpleasant at the same time, which left me as usual, utterly confused. I held the basket and Will held my hand in one of his. His free hand was under my hair, gently stroking the back of my neck. I was surprised I still had the ability to walk.

Which is why I was not completely surprised when I tripped over absolutely nothing and twisted my ankle. Bad thing number one. Will, stooping over slightly, helped me up and asked me if I was alright. "Yes, I'm fine. Let's walk, shall we?" I stammered, mortified. And how much do you want to bet that Elizabeth is going to be the very personification of grace when we get back to the mansion?

Anyway, the sun was shining, the gulls weren't quite singing, and people were bustling about as usual, down the hill where the town was. But from where Will and I stood, looking over the busy little port, everything was serene. I sighed.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, ever the perceptive one. I shrugged. "We were having such a nice day, and now I have to go back to the mansion, and I really don't want to because Elizabeth and I certainly aren't on speaking terms as of late. In fact, we aren't even on _breathing_ terms with each other," I said. Will said nothing, only smiled slightly and kept walking.

"You shouldn't worry so much about her, you know," he suggested calmly. I nodded but didn't trust myself to speak. Because if I did, the only thing that would fly out of my mouth would be accusations and that would get me nowhere except in a bigger pot of trouble than I'm already in.

Considering I wasn't speaking, Will let the matter drop, and I didn't know how to feel about that either. However, I still am a bit brain dead from the wine, so that might be the cause of the lack of conversation. And if I did say something, it might be "You look beautiful too, Will." Sheer genius on my part, that was.

I bit my lip as we came up on the mansion, and I found myself taking smaller steps and walking slower. Did I really have to see Elizabeth prancing around in the dress that I bought for Mary? No, I certainly didn't. And neither did Will.

"Don't be such a baby," Will chided, smiling at me and taking the basket. I was going to say something sharp, but once again I found my lips sealed against his, speech once again inhibited. It's not really a nice thing to do, to make a woman seen and not heard by kissing her.

And then perhaps the worst thing that would happen today took place. As Will stepped back, his face just inches from mine, Elizabeth's stupid flowers kicked in and I sneezed. Bad thing number two.

And it wasn't a lady like little sneeze, it was a full fledged allergy induced explosion from my nose.

Will closed his eyes, and that was it for me, I started laughing. "I am so sorry, Will," I said, pulling a handkerchief out of the front of my dress (don't ask, don't tell, okay?) and offered it to him. His eyes were still closed, however, so I wiped his face for him, still laughing. I bit my lip and willed myself to not laugh, and really when you think about it I had absolutely nothing to laugh about because how embarrassing is it to blow snot all over your fiancé's face, right? Will opened his eyes to look at me, and the look on his face sent me over again, and I just laughed louder. He looked like he was struggling to figure out whether or not I'd completely gone insane, a notion that I myself wouldn't even know the answer too.

"I'm sorry," I said again, folding up the handkerchief and sticking it in my pocket. Will, however, was not looking at my face this time, but at my chest.

"Hey," I said sharply, "I'm up here."

Will grinned slyly at me and said, "I'm willing to forgive being spewed with the contents of your nose, if you tell me exactly why you have a handkerchief stuffed down your -"

"Will!" I yelped, blushing furiously and smacking his arm. "Need I remind you that I am a lady -"

"Who routinely sneezes on her suitors, I presume?"

"First of all, I haven't been unlucky enough to have done _that _before -"

"Well, thank you for allowing me to be the first."

"Second of all, you are not just some suitor you are my _fiancé._"

"Oh, so I should just accept being sneezed upon then?" Will asked. I groaned and walked forward resolutely up the steps to the mansion, a smile tugging furiously on my lips. For once it seemed like Will and I were back to normal, the way we usually acted before all this strange stuff started happening, before I became the future Mrs. Turner…the realization of that made me stop short. In a few months time, hopefully, I would be a Mrs. I would be Mrs. Will Turner…Will stumbled into me as we reached the door -like I said, the only thing that he isn't an oaf with would be a sword.

"What's wrong?" he asked again. I smiled and turned around to face him, feeling brave for once and wrapping my arms around him. He was standing a step below me, so he was eye level. I grinned. "Do you realize that in a few months, maybe sooner, I will be Mrs. Turner? And you will be the son-in-law of the Governor of Port Royal?" I asked, pressing my forehead against his.

He smiled back at me, "Well, yes, that's usually what happens when two people get married," he said.

"As opposed to three or four people?" I said sarcastically. He glared at me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

"You are far to spirited, I think, my lady. Someone should tame you," he said.

"Oh, and I suppose you think you can 'tame me,' Mr. Turner?" I asked, tilting my head back and looking up at the sky (believe me I knew what such an action did to the top of my dress, and it left my wondering where I had gotten such nerve from.) I heard Will swallow hard, and pull me back up from where I was tilted back. I grinned wickedly at him.

"What's wrong, Master Blacksmith, cat got your tongue?" I asked.

"No," he said hoarsely, pulling me close and kissing me on the mouth. And this time, I didn't pause to wonder if he still fancied Elizabeth, or regretted his decision in proposing to me. I let him kiss him, and thought only of him and the wonderful day we just shared.

"I was never one much for propriety anyway, Miss Swann," he said, and I just sighed, his lips still inches from mine. I leaned forward to kiss him, when the door opened and my sister's squeaky voice said,

"Christina, dear God, do you want to shame yourself in front of the entire town?" Elizabeth gasped.

"Where, Elizabeth, do you see the entire town? There is nobody here but Will and I, and now, unfortunately, _you_," I snapped, picking up the basket and walking into the house.

"Oh, and Will, the reason I keep a handkerchief down the front of my dress is because you never know when someone will need it," I added, fluttering my lashes at him.

Elizabeth looked scandalized.

"Christina, as useful as that information was, I would appreciate it very much if you didn't impart information like that to Mr. Turner until after you are married," my father said, walking downstairs most likely from the study, with the Commodore, of all people, behind him. And the Commodore, it seems, has taken the time to relax after our grand adventure, and was having no trouble at all not keeping his smile hidden.

Will shifted uneasily on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. I felt my face light itself on fire. "Of course, Father," I said, sweeping a curtsy to him and the Commodore. How incredibly humiliating, my family has the best way of showing up at exactly the wrong point in time, honestly!

"Good afternoon, Mr. Turner. I'm so glad that you could join us today," my father said, holding out his hand. Will shook his hand hesitantly and it occurred to me that this was the first time that he didn't have to bow to portray his greetings, and my father was treating him as an equal and not lower class citizen, as he would…blacksmith, for example. I smiled widely, happy at this revelation. My father smiled back at me indulgently.

"It is good to see you smile, again, Christina. It seemed to me that you haven't quite happy as of late, and if young William here is the cause of your delight, well, then I am in debt to him," he said grandly, walking to the dining room. Will offered my his arm, which I gladly took , walking with my head held high. Elizabeth sighed slightly and offered a weak smile to Commodore Norrington, who once again was holding his arm out expectantly. She took it, and with an icy glare at me, we followed my father.

My father sat at the head of the table, I sat at his right, seeing as how I was the betrothed daughter, and Elizabeth at his left. Will was next to me, and Norrington next to Elizabeth.

"It is such a nice day that I had hoped we would take our tea outside, but the maids inform me that it gets a bit uncomfortable out in the sun on a day like this, with no wind from the sea," my father said, quickly making conversation.

"Oh, father, do you think Will and the Commodore could stay for dinner? I haven't had the chance to talk to either of them for the longest time, and I quite miss it, I must say," Elizabeth said in her perfect way, delicately unfolding her napkin and aiming a shy smile at Will while she placed in on her lap. For politeness sake, she turned to the Commodore and nodded at him. I said nothing, only arranged my napkin rather quickly on my lap, thinking of the picnic beneath the tree to try and calm myself. Will, perhaps sensing my distress, took my hand.

"Well, Elizabeth, that is up to Mr. Turner and the Commodore if they would like to stay. But we'll talk about that after tea, alright sweeting? Now, Christina, I suppose the real topic at hand would be your wedding, would it not? Have you two any idea of when you would want it to take place?" he asked. I was so very glad that I wasn't drinking tea at the moment, because I surely would have spit it all out over Elizabeth…which, actually, when you think about it, wouldn't be a bad thing after all. And it wouldn't cause too much embarrassment on my part, because once you sneeze all over your significant other, you can't get much worse than that, can you?

"We haven't thought about that, Father, after all its only been a couple of weeks since we've been engaged…" I said. Elizabeth smiled nastily at me.

"Oh, but don't you think it would be better if it were sooner, Christina? I mean, you are no young chicken anymore. You're twenty, most women are married with two children at that age," she said.

She, in all her infinite wisdom, must have forgotten that we are twins. "Elizabeth, dear, you do remember that you are only a minute and a half younger than me? Somehow, I don't think that makes you any less aged in respect to marriage and child bearing," I said, smiling through my teeth. My father laughed, leaning back in his chair so that Eleanor could place a tea cup and saucer in front of him.

"Girls; always bickering. You'd best hope that young William here doesn't give you twin daughters, Christina, you'd have your hands full," he said. I was in the middle of swallowing and began to choke on hot tea and crumpets. Attractive, I know. I started coughing, and Will look worriedly at me, but under his gaze I could see he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"I'm sure we have a while yet before Christina is bearing twins, Governor Swann," he said, patting me gently on the back. I shot him a glare through watery eyes, seeing the smile tug on his lips.

"Yes, you certainly do, Mr. Turner, seeing as how you haven't even bought her a ring yet," the Commodore said idly, looking at my fingers as I grasped the tea cup. I bit my tongue and looked worriedly at Will, who seemed abashed. I squeezed his hand gently, and looked the Commodore straight in the eyes, it seemed he was still quite bitter toward Will for Elizabeth having chosen him over the Commodore's own self.

"Will has given me other things that hold more value than a silly ring might," I said stiffly.

"Such as?" the Commodore prodded.

"Well, he doesn't prance around in that sodding uniform, for one. And if I happened to take a tumble off yonder cliff, where Elizabeth fell so many weeks ago, I am quite sure he would have jumped in to rescue, instead of leaving it up to a pirate. But I suppose I can't blame someone of your station for being bitter, after having been so blatantly rejected by such a fine woman as my sister," I said coldly, glaring at the Commodore, who looked quite shocked. I rather like being the Governor's daughter, I think. It gives me the leeway to be a wretch to important people, such as our esteemed Commodore, and not have to worry about being hanged. Although I do expect to be getting the third degree from my father in about half a second.

"Christina, I demand that you apologize to the Commodore right this instant! What an awful thing to say, after he was hospitable enough to restrain from reprimanding Mr. Turner as was necessary after that little ordeal with that Sparrow character," my father said.

"With all due respect, father, I believe it was you who granted Will clemency," I said. I was righteously angry, how dare that old windbag berate Will for not having given me a ring yet. Who said I even _wanted_ a ruddy ring?

Well…I did, but that's besides the point.

But as my father opened his mouth, his face flushing beet red as it usually did when he was about to up his blood pressure to a boiling point to admonish me, Elizabeth took a sip of her tea and coughed horribly, spewing it all over my father, Will, and I.


	7. Of Punishment and Dinner Parties

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I woke up late in the morning, utterly and completely miserable. I sat in bed until I couldn't stand laying down anymore, and then I got up and changed quickly into a plain dress and tied by hair back with a ribbon, after hastily brushing it. I had absolutely no idea what I would be doing today, actually, I don't think there was really anything for me to do. I couldn't look forward to going out with Will, because I wouldn't be seeing him for a week, no thanks to my sister. So I walked downstairs and decided to forgo breakfast, which really would be lunch, because I didn't want to deal with the infuriating presence of my family.

I walked out into the garden and sat by the fountain that Will and I had been sitting by yesterday. Yesterday was both the best and worst day of my life, for obvious reasons. My relationship with him was finally progressing past that retarded flustered silence stage. We were actually having fun. And, perhaps the best thing about it, kissing was becoming less and less awkward, and more enjoyable. In fact, it's a thing that I wouldn't mind doing more often.

But anyway I sat alone in the garden, dipping my hands into the water and thinking of absolutely nothing. Except that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if I killed my sister. I'm allowed one mortal sin a lifetime, right? I sighed, no, that would make my father angry and I'd be thrown in jail. Although I didn't particularly care what my father thought at the moment, and jail wouldn't be very different from here considering I would not be allowed to go out and see Will. But prison smells bad. The garden was considerably better.

I got up and walked around the garden, hoping that something would distract me for oh, say, about a week. No such luck. The sky was a boring Caribbean blue, the flowers were their usual array of pretty colors and petals, the bees and hornets and wasps and what not were buzzing around annoyingly and if one of them buzzed into my hair like it did last year, I'd be sure to have a heart attack. That would at least solve Elizabeth's problems.

And, hey, the wasps were roughly the size of tea cups so my fear is understandable.

Even if I didn't go see Will, I wanted to go outside. There is nothing I despise more than being kept in. I hate it. I hate walls and I hate cages. Maybe I was happiest on the ship with Jack. There were no walls, just open air and open sea. Of course, the bleeding sun was a little uncomfortable, and I may never be able to wear powder again because my skin will never return to the olive it was - I'll be permanently brown, and that may end up giving me that weathered leathery look but does it really matter on a ship? Anamaria tanned gracefully, she's that brown butter color. Its not fair. I cant be that island princess, and I cant be the Princess of Port Royal, like sweet little Elizabeth. I'm stuck somewhere in the middle.

I groaned aloud, all this solitude was making me depressed. I decided that being alone in the garden was definitely not what I needed. I walked up the stairs inside the house, which was surprisingly cool for a hot Caribbean day. I touched the stone wall appreciatively with my forehead, and sighed. Pressing a hand to the back of my neck I could tell that I would be sun burned.

"Just lovely," I muttered, heading into the kitchen where Anita was working furiously as she and the other cooks prepared for dinner. "Are we having some sort of feast tonight, Anita? There's enough food here to feed an army!" I said, looking around, amazed. There were at least a dozen loaves of bread, a large about of assorted wines, cheeses, fruits, and a whole stuffed pig roasting on a spit. The sight made me slightly queasy. I was never one for greasy animals being rotated around over a fire. Especially when it had little olives stuffed into its eyes. Why we ate things like this, I'll never know.

"Didn't your father tell you, Miss? The Commodore and some of his best men are coming to dine tonight. Your father wanted to hold a feast in their honor, for the safe return of your sister. Awful, what happened to her, it is," Anita said pointedly. I wrinkled my nose.

"Yeah. Real bloody awful, that she would too damn stupid to hide in a place where it wasn't obvious. If he's holding a feast in anybody's honor it should have been Captain Jack Sparrow, and Will, not the sodding Commodore and his goons," I snapped. Anita looked at me with wide eyes, as if she'd never heard such words coming from a lady's mouth before. Ha, a day with me and she'd probably keel over.

I sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a bad mood today," I told her, looking around the kitchen again. Ever since she was caught carrying out my plan for sabotage, she'd turned into the right proper little cook, and was very cautious around me. I smiled, an idea dawning on me. "Say, I've got nothing to do and if I come into contact with my sister I may have to finish what Barbossa started - do you think you could show me a bit of your art of cooking? After all, if I am to be a wife, I should know at least a little of such things,"

Anita looked up sharply. "Oh, we couldn't, Miss Swann, we'd get into so much trouble. I doubt you're even supposed to be down here, let alone cooking. You'll get a stain on your dress, and you should be preparing to welcome the guests -"

"My sister can to all the ruddy introductions, I carevery little-"

"You mustn't talk like that, Miss Swann. What would your father say?" Anita interrupted me nervously, looking around and lowering her voice.

I smiled grimly, "I care even less for what my father has to say about my conduct. He's the reason that I'm here anyway. I'm prohibited from leaving the house," I said bitterly. Anita sighed.

"Even so, Miss, you must go to your room, there are only a few hours left until the dinner party, and you're still all sweaty and in your plain clothes. And your hair, it's a mess -"

"Hush, child, if the girl would like to learn how to cook, then she bloody well can. And ye should know that yer are not to chastise the mistress of the house about her looks or her conduct," the older cook said, smiling indulgently at me. She had dark hair streaked with white, giving her a look as if she could be anywhere from thirty five to fifty five. Her dark face was wrinkled, most of them located around her eyes. She was big boned and heavy, her large hands working easily at peeing potatoes and adding them to a soup or stew or what not. Anita chewed her lip nervously and muttered an apology to me, going quickly back to work.

"No need to apologize, Anita. And I'm hardly the mistress of the house, if I'm not even allowed to leave," I said, taking a liking to the old woman almost immediately. She nodded, "Yes, but yer mum is gone and yer the oldest daughter. Yer father hasn't taken another wife. That leaves ye with the chief inheritance and the job as mistress of the household," she said and took my hand, pulling me over to her before I could point out that I'm only a minute and a halfolder than my sister and would most likely to be disowned in the near future.

"What is it ye'd like to learn, dearie?" she asked. I looked around helplessly.

"Anything! I don't know anything at all, I'm afraid. I wouldn't make a very good wife," I said. She grinned at me, her teeth were big and crooked and there were a good few missing, but they suited her. I watched as the wrinkles by her eyes darkened and deepened. I felt myself wishing that in however many years, I looked like that too. There was a certain sturdy elegance about this woman and none of the frailty of old age. There wereso many years portrayed on her face andthe happiest ones always the easiest to see. Her eyes were dancing mischievously like they were full of so many stories and I found myself longing to know what it was she knew.

She handed me a potato and a bade me peel. I took the knife awkwardly from her hand and sliced at the vegetable. Huge chunks of white potato went flying, littering the floor. I bit my lip and tried to position the knife so I wouldn't make quite so much of a mess, to no avail. Before I knew it, I had cut myself.

I yelped in surprise, and the lady turned to me quickly. "Oh, dearie, what did ye do? Give me yer hand," she said, and I did, holding my cut fingers up like a little girl. She took a cloth from beside the pile of already perfectly skinned potatoes, and tied it around my hand tightly.

"I'm afraid I shan't be able to do anything of any value, when I'm married," I said sadly, not knowing why I was so upset over a ruined potato and a little cut. She clucked her tongue at me, "Don't be silly, lovie, its yer first time. Ye've lived a sheltered life, with yer pretty dresses and perfumes - yes you, even with yer sister taking up all the space in the room, and Mr. Turner's affections at her disposal for the better of a rough decade. Don't look so shocked, dearie, just because ye've never seen me before, the servant folk know a lot more than what they let on. Now let me tell ye that the most ye've seen of the world ye've seen in the past few weeks. Ye still got a lot to learn. Cut away from yerself next time, and ye wont get hurt," she said, giving me an odd look and handing me a fresh potato. I stared at her for a moment, not knowing how all of that finally led up to 'cut away from yourself next time', but shrugged and took her advice, slowly skinning the potato. It was jagged and a good deal of the actual potato was gone, but at least I hadn't mortally wounded myself this time.

I peeled a few more in silence, listening to the scuffle of the kitchen and the slurred words of the cooks, in a language that sounded familiar but I'd never spoken before. I smiled, listening to it. It was fast and each sentence practically bit the other off, but it sounded fluid. I wished I could make all the sounds.

The old woman took the potato out of my hands and the knife. "It's late, ye really should be gettin' upstairs," she said. "Now, dearie," she said when I didn't respond. That fact was the I didn't know how she could tell that it was late. There were no windows in the hot little kitchen, or if there were they were covered up. But I turned and walked up the stairs, going to my room and stripping out of my gown, sinking down into the blessedly cool water of the tub. Mary had obviously filled it hours ago, but I was grateful for the cold water and the emptiness of the room. I splashed around a bit, ducking my head under the water and staying under for as long as I possibly could without passing out. I was really not in the mood for the Commodore to come in all his snotty jeers and mocking ways, and I really did not need to see the Royal Navy boys parading around as if they were heroes. I guess they were in their own right, but I didn't want to deal with them either way. I'd much rather stay in my room and read.

However, my father would seek to commence his role as Dictator of the World, or rather, continue it, and force me to wear my best dress and put a ribbon in my hair and make myself presentable for our acclaimed Commodore and his loyal mutts that ran around yelping at his feet.

I groaned and got up; the water stung the cut on my hand, and myfingers weresore from holding the knife. With a disgusted sigh, I realize how correct the cook was in telling me what a pampered life I led. I wrapped myself in my robe and stepped our from behind the screen that surrounded the bathtub and nearly screamed when I saw a dark figure in the corner.

"Elizabeth, what are you _doing_ here!" I hissed, glaring at her. She was already dressed, her hair done, it was incredibly puffy and it made her forehead looked even larger, if that was possible. Her corset was pulled tighter than usual and she looked like she was going to pass out once again. Eleanor must have layered five tons of powder on her face, she was so white she practically glowed. Like a porcelain doll-I was always afraid of those things. Her lips were painted with something, else she had eaten a good deal of strawberries before coming in. I felt like a drowned rat next to her.

"I wanted to make sure that you were getting ready," she said, in a voice that was less than her usually sniveling idiot tone. I looked at her, incredulous. "Well, you came, you saw, and you conquered. Again. Have a care and leave before I throw something at you again, you must know that you are not my favorite person in the world right now. Send in Mary, tell her I need to speak with her," I said flatly, going over to the closet and picking out a dark dress, the plainest one I could find.

"What about?" my sister asked innocently. I snarled, jerking a comb through my tangled hair. It was so dark that I looked pale against it, and I am definitely not pale. I tilted my head up and could see the sunburn on my neck and shoulders.

I sighed angrily, "About the best way to kill someone and not get caught, dearie. Now do make yourself scarce."

She sneered at me, "You don't scare me. If you wanted to know, I came in here to apologize," she snapped, heading to the door.

"Oh, that's awfully sweet of you, Lizzy. I completely accept your apology, most graciously," I said in a falsetto voice. "Now leave so I can get ready," I snapped. She hurried out silently and a few minutes later, Mary walked in.

"What a state you're in, Christina," she said cheerfully, pulling the laces on my corset tight as I held my arms out to my side and took my final deep breath that I'd have that night.

"Thank you, Mary. That was exactly what I wanted to hear," I said sourly, letting her help me into my dress.

"Why did you pick this dress, Christina? Its so plain. The Commodore is here. Don't you want to make yourself presentable?"

I looked at her calmly, "Do you honestly want me to answer that question, Mary?" I asked. She glared at me.

"Fine. Look like a common woman instead of the Governor's daughter," she said, buttoning up the back of my dress.

"When have I looked like anything else?" I griped, picking up the powder case and poking at it venomously. I hated the stuff. She grabbed it from me and powdered my face, hissing angrily.

"Look at what you've done!. Got yourself all burned. Are you trying to make yourself look like a heathen?" she snapped, powdering my neck and shoulders as well.

I batted her hands away, "Its itchy, don't do that!" I yelped. She gave me an exasperated look and combed gently through my hair.

"Just because you wont be seeing Will for a week does not mean that you get make a hermit of yourself," she said mildly, braiding my hair up off my neck and showcasing my sunburn.

"I think I have every right to be a hermit, and do you want me too look like a bloody lobster! Look at this, I'm certainly as red as one!" I complained, twirling the hair she had left loose around my finger. She pushed my hand away and curled the strand around a piece of cloth, leaving it there to dry and walking around the room to find jewelry for me. She strung the black pearls that around my neck - I wear them everyday - and pinned a dark brooch to highlight my chest.

"Mary, need I remind you that I am engaged?" I said, staring at her, stupefied. She grinned and me and pulled the cloth from my hair, a bouncy curl hanging over my right shoulder.

"You're notmarried yet," she said simply, ushering me out the door and toward the stairs.

Some day I shall kill that girl.

* * *

Dinner wasn't nearly the hell that I had expected it to be, except that I was bored out of my mind. I went down to the atrium and waited, standing patiently next to my sister. Okay, so I was fidgeting, tugging at the top of my dress to pull it up. No such luck, if I moved it a bit with out being careful, I'd burst right out of it. And that wouldn't do any body a bit of good.

Elizabeth held her head up as I stood beside her, not looking at me for an instant. I snorted, did she honestly think that I would accept her apology? I am not the one running around like a wench, trying to steal other people's fiancés! And I _could_ be lording the fact that Will chose me and not her right in her face, and I'm not. Although I probably should be, but I don't want to jinx it. The little minx has a way of charming the pants off of men. I cant really decided if the pun is intended.

But anyway, it wasn't very long before the Commodore had arrived, with three of his men. One of them I realized as his First Mate, a handsome young man named Gillette, I think. Unfortunately, he was obviously wearing a wig and powder, as if trying to impersonate the _intimidating_ aura of dear Commodore Norrington. Yes, because bouncy white curls just frighten the bejesus out of me. I smiled thinly, extending my hand as was due of one of the highest ladies of the island. Gillette brushed a kiss over my gloved knuckles. I had decided to put on black gloves that went up to my elbows at the last minute. Mary just clucked her tongue at me, the way she always did when she thought I was being a moron again.

The other officer was the man known as Murtogg. He kept quiet and followed the Commodore and Gillette. I felt a bit bad for him, knowing what it was like to be in another's shadow. I smiled at him as we walked into the dining room.

And finally, it was the naval officer whose uniform I'd stolen the day Jack, Will, and I had commandeered the Dauntless, only to commandeer the Interceptor. When I looked at him, he flushed and looked down. I had to stifle a laugh.

"Christina, dear, you look like you are in mourning, child, whatever is the matter?" my father asked, favoring me with a smile; one that I did not return.

"Why, father, how unusually perceptive of you. I do happen to be in mourning, for lack of freedom. You see, I am a child of the island. I cant live a day without fresh air and sunshine." I snapped waspishly.

The Commodore smirked, "Freedom? What woman would have any want of that? I was under the impression that they are perfectly happy with the lives they lead. It is their place to stay at home, safe behind walls, where they belong. It would do you good to learn that, Miss Swann," he said ironically.

I glared, "Perhaps for women like my sister, Commodore. Although she turned down the prospect of life behind walls, considering you would be behind them with her for the most part. I, for the life of me, cannot figure out why." My father looked outraged, and was about to chastise me, justifiably I'm sure.

"Perhaps, then, Miss Swann, you are desolate. I do not see your fiancé anywhere near. Just like a woman to be so bound to her husband, future though he may be," the Commodore answered nastily. I couldn't help but feel like I liked this banter, my sister could never come up with a come back fast enough, and when she did it was usually "Ooh, just wait until I tell Father what you've done now!"

But at the moment I was not in the mood to talk about Will to anybody, least of all the Commodore. Especially not in front of my sister and my father, who would just gloat about all their successful conspiring. Which is what I was thinking it would turn out to be, Elizabeth getting back at me for her lack of fiancé and my father taking her side. Was it my fault that she turned down the most eligible man in Port Royal, just because she _assumed_ that Will was in love with her? She could be planning her own damn wedding right now if she has been the greedy little witch that she was supposed to be. But no. She had to be smart about it. Well look at where it got her.

My father laughed nervously. "Well, as it turns out, my lovely daughter here seems to be very spirited. I, as any father would, want to calm her down a bit. She isn't to leave the house this week," he said. And inspiration hit me, once again, upside the head.

"That's not what you said!" I complained loudly, pitching my voice to match the whine that Elizabeth had patented. He looked at me, surprised, "Why, whatever are you talking about, dear? Of course it is."

I pouted sourly. "No its not. You said that I was prohibited from seeing Will this week. You never said that I was to stay indoors." My father opened his mouth in indignation.

"And you _are_ the Governor of Port Royal! Shouldn't you treat me as fairly as all the citizens? With honesty and integrity...I am your daughter! I shall waste away this week, cooped up like a sparrow in a cage! At least let me go into town and walk about a bit. I fear I might lose the ability to walk!" I said. My father glared at me, but under the eyes of the Commodore and First Mate it was very hard for him to decide what to do. My father is one who is slightly influenced by what others have to say of him. Just slightly.

He sighed. "I suppose you're right, dear. Very well, you may go to the market every so often. But if I get word that you are meeting with that boy, then you will stay inside for the rest of the week, even if it means you lose your ability to walk. And now, enough of your whining. You disgrace yourself," he said, motioning for me and Elizabeth to occupy ourselves elsewhere while he talks about manly, important things with his guests. Things such simpleton women wouldn't understand. They make me sick, as if I _didn't _just outsmart his sorry head.

"Well done then, Christina," my sister said as we walked about to the library.

I turned to her, "What do you mean, Lizzy?" I asked, pulling out a book and sitting in chair uncomfortably. These dresses really are the stupidest things.

"You get to go about behind Father's back to visit Will. I would have never thought of coming up with such a brilliant idea as that," she said. I closed the book and looked up, on the defensive side although the tone of her voice wasn't mean.

"Sometimes I wonder if you are a minute younger than me, or five years. Why cant you just let me be?" I asked her angrily. She sat down in the chair opposite me and said nothing. I looked at her and sighed, going back to my book. After a while she spoke.

"I do love him, Christina."

"Well a fat lot of help that does you, Elizabeth. You cant make him love you just because you fancy him. I doubt you even know what love is," I said tiredly, looking up. She looked genuinely hurt, and I felt genuinely sorry, and then genuinely angry for being genuinely sorry.

"You don't think I know what love is?" she repeated. I put my guard up again, the last time I'd had a heart to heart with her she ended up calling me a whore and worse.

"That's what I said," I muttered, raising my chin.

"I know what love is," she said coldly, glaring at me and standing up. "Love is doing anything you possibly can to get the person you love. And that's what I'm going to do," she said. I was shocked to find that I agreed with her. I would do anything for Will, and anything to keep him from her.

"Even if it means hurting your own sister?" I asked sadly, still sitting with the book on my lap. She headed for the door.

"Right, because you've been such a dear to me," she snapped.

I wondered if I would do the same thing. If I would hurt her if she was in my place. I realized that she _had_ been in my place, for eight years, when Will was so infatuated with her. I hadn't done anything…or had I? Had all the time I spent with him been to just learn how to fence, and because I liked his company; or because I wanted him to like mine? Had I gone on the adventure with Jack Sparrow because I wanted to save my sister…or because I wanted to stay with Will as long as I possibly could? And if I _hadn't_ gone, would Will still have proposed to me - the answer to that was probably, painfully no. I sighed and turned the pages of my book thoughtfully without reading them, wondering how Elizabeth and I had drifted to the point where we were indeed enemies it looked like, instead of sisters. I wasn't entirely surprised when I wished she would just be my sister again.

Mary walked quietly into the library, tapping on the door. I looked up, surprised to see that candle that I had been reading by burned a bit lower than it had been before. I must have dozed off. "Up you get, Miss, dinner is served," Mary said, taking the book from me and motioning for me to dust off the front of my dress.

"Did you have to pick such a ridiculous color, Christina? Look, all the dust is so plainly present, it makes you look like…a very dusty lady!" she said, scowling at me. I heard someone laugh from behind her, and was surprised to see that it was Gillette.

"I think she looks lovely. If you'll excuse us," he said, nodding at Mary, who flushed horribly and hurried out of the room. Gillette walked up to me and offered me his arm. I took it reluctantly. "So you're the lady who everyone's talking about, the Governor's little pirate. I've never seen you up close. I reckon you resemble that Jack Sparrow a bit, love," he said. I looked at him strangely, on guard again.

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, sir," was the only thing I could find to say.

He nodded at me, "Indeed. Are you always on a first name basis with your servants?" he asked. I stiffened and pulled my hand out of the crook of his arm.

"I don't see why I shouldn't be. Mary is the same age is me, there is no reason for me to treat her any differently, nor any of the other servants. In fact, some of the older ones I call as respectfully as I would any noble, by their proper titles," I said, walking ahead quickly. The impudence of rich men made me mad.

"I didn't mean to offend you, miss, indeed I am from humble upbringing myself. My father was a poor shipwright and my mother a weaver. It just surprised me that a lady of _your_ upbringing might be so comfortable with her maid," he said. I let him take me by the arm again, relaxing a bit.

"Mary is my friend," I said. "My _best_ friend in fact, save for -" I closed my mouth quickly, resolving not to talk about Will to this man. Gillette, however, grinned at me.

"I'm going to assume that you were not speaking of your sister, then, Miss Swann?" he teased. I groaned under my breath, glad to have finally reached the bottom of the stairs. We were nearly at the dining room, and there I could eat and keep quiet, not having to answer annoying questions. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to me.

"Are you not going to ask me for my name? After all, seeing as how we are both part of the upper class of this island, we should become friends," he said. I smirked.

"Why's that, sir? Think you that I have many friends among the aristocrats? I assure you they are not nearly so fond of me as one might think. I am the Governor's little pirate, remember? You said it yourself and I'm afraid they don't approve."

"Well, seeing as how I'm not quite a part of that nobility, and neither are you, I think we should become friends anyway," he said, smiling again. I couldn't help but smile, his persistent annoyance very different from the stuffy infuriation of the rich wig-wearing men.

"Would it please you, sir, if I was to ask for your name?" I said, walking forward again.

"Yes," he said, walking to keep up. We were outside the dining room now, and he took my arm again.

"Well, what is your name then?" I asked.

"Jonathon," he said, as we walked into the room. The table was laden with plates and food up to the ceiling, it seemed like. My father looked up as I walked in and, seeing my arm linked with the First Mate's, smiled approvingly.

A/N: Well, there you go, mates, another update. Please review. Whew I'm spent from writing all…tell me what you think Christina should be doing during her week of Will-lessness and I'll see what I can put into the next few chapters. And _yes _**Jack Sparrow **shall be in this story….**_I CANT WAIT! _**But you'll have to be patient, a few things must be sorted out and torn apart first…


	8. Contemporary Female

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I glared at my father, taking my arm swiftly out of my escort's. The last thing I needed was for my father to find some excuse to match me up with some one more appropriate in order to "tame me. Just because I don't pretend to have a mind completely full of air doesn't mean that I should be sold off to someone suitable. Besides, Will was much more suitable compared to this stupid puff who seemed intent on leading me over to a chair, pulling it out for me, seeing that I was seated comfortably (fat chance in this stupid dress), and then pushing my chair in for me; pushing it in rather too far so that any chance I had of breathing was diminished yet again.

But who's complaining? I'm certainly not.

My father, however, seemed to think it was entirely amusing, and motioned for Gillette to take a seat beside me. The Commodore was on my father's right hand side, seeing as how this was a formal dinner, and Gillette on his left. Elizabeth, to her utmost distaste, was sitting next to the Commodore, and I next to Gillette. I wondered vaguely if he would try to cut my meat, seeing as how I was _such_ a helpless woman thing. If he tries it, I think I shall stab him.

I was becoming more and more irritated by the minute, not only because the company was such that I would be happier eating among drunken louts, but because the dress that I was wearing was so low cut, and my sunburn started getting even itchier. Not fun, seeing as how both elements combined were a beacon for my chest; and Gillette nor the Commodore saw fit to ignore it.

I bit my lip angrily and pushed a napkin to the front of my dress, as a bib, to try to cover myself up a bit. So what if I looked like I was four? While my father and the Commodore droned on and on about worthless things, like how wonderful it was that Elizabeth was home safe - honestly, she'd been home safe for two weeks now, does it matter anymore? - I tried very hard to look like I was absorbed by the engravings on the forks. No such luck, Gillette (or "Jonathon" as he would have me call him) turned to me and started to run his mouth off about something or other. Every so often he would lean in miserably close, as if he thought me deaf. I coughed loudly when Mary came in with the other maids, and glared at her. She bit her lip, trying to look anxious, but I could tell she thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Dinner will be served soon, sir," Mary said quietly to my father. He looked up at her, and smiled. "Thank you, lass," he said, nodding. She walked around and stupidly came to my side of the table. I pushed my chair out quickly, and caused her to trip. Alas, she did not fall.

"Christina, are you quite all right? You are behaving so oddly this evening," my father said sharply. I smiled thinly at him.

"I'm afraid I was pushed in too far to breathe properly, Father," I said, choking in my feigned sweetness and excusing myself to walk out of the dining room "for a breath of fresh air". What I really meant was that if Gillette kept breathing down my neck, I'd most likely punch him in the nose. And God only knows how much trouble I'd get into for pulling a stunt like that.

I walked just out side of the dining room and paced around angrily, trying to figure out how I would possibly sit through dinner without fatally wounding any of those present. Mary came up and regarded me angrily. "What was that for, Christina?" she hissed. "You made me look like a fool! In front of you father! In front of the _Commodore_," she snapped. I crossed my arms, looked down, and then uncrossed them, slightly alarmed.

"Well, _you_, my dear, made me look like…like…some sort of prick pincher, or bar maid! For God's sake, Mary, couldn't you have loosened the corset! Or did you want me to look like I should be saying 'a penny for a suck, mate' and winking with every other sentence!" I said accusingly. Mary flushed up to her hairline at what I was implying, and bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Its not funny!" I almost shouted.

"Shh," she whispered, between bouts of laughter. "I'm sorry, alright? I just thought it would keep your mind off Will for a bit. You looked ever so depressed," she said. I snarled at her.

"Yes, well now I have to keep that slimy First Mates hands and eyes off me, it's taking all of my energy! Not to mention the Commodore, which is quite frankly disgusting."

"Oh, I hardly think you are so well endowed as all that," Mary said shortly.She fussed over my hair for a few seconds and then turned me around and shoved me back into the dining room. With a snort of disdain and a glare for all the occupants of our dining room, I took my seat.

* * *

"So, Miss Swann, your father tells me that you're quite the swords…er...woman," Gillette said loudly, as I sat down again. I pulled the napkin out of the front of my shirt and laid it on my lap.

"Does he now? I don't see how he could possibly know, he's never seen me with a sword," I said uncaringly. My father frowned.

"Mind your tongue, Christina, I was offering you a compliment. This is the attitude that got you confined here in the first place, if you don't start paying the proper respect to those whose station demands it, you wont be allowed to go _anywhere_ at all this whole week." I lowered my head, embarrassed. My father had just scolded me, a grown woman of twenty, in front of the two highest ranking men in Port Royal.

"Yes, Father," I mumbled quietly, looking up. I was nearly shocked that Elizabeth hadn't had a smart thing to say this whole time. Perhaps she was ill.

"How long have you been schooled in the art of swordplay?" the Commodore said, almost sounding sincerely interested. I willed myself not to shrug, 'tis not becoming of a lady.

"For about eight years now," I said, picking up my fork and stabbing at whatever was on my plate.

"That is indeed a long time," Gillette said.

"Would you show us some of what you can do, Christina?" Elizabeth said quietly.

I stared at her, "Excuse me?" I asked.

Before my father had the chance to forbid it, Gillette said, "Oh, yes, that would indeed be very interesting. You wouldn't deny us a bit of a show, would you, Christina?" he asked. I frowned sourly. Oh, 'a bit of a show' eh? I'm sure that's not all Gillette will be wanting from me after this night is through. Cocky bastard.

"I'd really rather -"

"Yes, Christina, I _would_ like to see if what Mr. Sparrow said is true. How did he so eloquently put it? Oh yes, that you could wipe the floor, swab the deck, some pirate rubbish - with me, if we were engaged in a duel," the Commodore said. I blinked incredulously, has the world gone mad? Would I truly be subjected to this humiliation?

"You can't be serious! Father, you wont allow me to do such a thing, would you? A woman, dueling with the Commodore, in the Governor's house? Its preposterous!" I said hoarsely. My father smiled indulgently at me.

"Oh, sweeting, you've been complaining about being cooped up all day. Against my better judgment, I will allow this little duel to transpire. I would like to see exactly what Mr. Turner has taught you. Besides, you didn't think it too preposterous when you went off gallivanting with that rogue, Sparrow," he said. I stared at him, agape.

"First of all, I was not gallivanting - we were on a mission to save Eliz -"

"Point taken, Christina, but after dinner you shall go upstairs and get changed. Our guests have requested a demonstration, and you shall be a proper hostess and will not deny them," my father said. Good lord, maybe the world isn't flat after all!

"Surely you two have something to say against this," I said to our other two guests, Officer Murtogg and the man whose clothes I'd stolen. Murtogg said nothing, but the other man offered this grand piece of conversation:

"Well, I should like to know that my clothes weren't stolen for nogoodreason!" the rest of the table indulged in uproarious laughter. I wanted to pound my face into the pork that was just brought in front of me.

* * *

"Can you believe this, Mary? They're making me duel! With the Commodore…" I moaned, pulling my hair out of its neat up-do and allowing Mary to braid it back, while I hastily unbuttoned my dress and tossed it to the floor. Or I would have tossed it, had it not been for the hoops. The stupid contraption just stood where it was, proud as you please.

Mary carefully avoided conversation, going over to my bureau and searching for something that I could wear. "Oh, dear," she said, coming back empty handed. "What?" I asked, pacing around anxiously in my shift. "I'm afraid you don't have anything to wear, Christina…the clothes that you had when you went off with Sparrow are in no condition for you to present yourself in front of the Commodore in," she tittered nervously. I groaned.

"There are no clothes made in God's green earth that would be suitable for me to duel with the Commodore in," I said angrily, pulling on a robe and marching out of my room. Who ever heard of such a thing, a woman, the Governor's bloody _daughter_, flouncing off to a duel? I mean, at least when I was with Jack I had to do it otherwise I'd end up minced meat. But there is absolutely no reason for me to do this now. None at all. I walked into my father's study quickly, wishing I hadn't as soon as I got there. Who else would be there, except for my father? The Commodore and his First Mate, of course. And what should I be wearing? My bloody shift and robe, which I didn't even bother to tie. By the clothing standards, I was quite naked. Elizabeth is going to pay for this.

"Father, I'm afraid I'll have to pass on this little duel. First off, I really don't think its proper -"

"Tosh," said my father.

"Secondly, I haven't got anything to wear,"

"I'd be glad to lend you my jacket -" said Gillette, ever my champion.

"Thirdly, I'm afraid I've had much too much to eat, and I'm feeling rather full, and very tired…I think I'd be ill if I engaged in a duel - especially with someone as skilled as you, Commodore," I wanted to rip my tongue out, I had actually stooped to paying a compliment to Norrington! I cant stand the whelp! Still, desperate times...

"Nonsense, Christina, you hardly ate a bite," Elizabeth said helpfully as she walked down the hall. I groaned and stormed out, back into my room.

"Mary, this is awful! What am I going to do? They are forcing me to duel! With Norrington!" I hissed. Mary clucked her tongue at me.

"That's what you get for being such a spirited little thing, and running off to William every day for the past eight years. If you had been a proper lady, you would never be in this situation," Mary said. Grand.

"Oh, you mean if I was a simpering little moron who got kidnapped by pirates and couldn't do a thing about it! If I was like _that?_" I spat. Mary just grinned at me. "And what are you smiling at, Mary? Hmm? I'll have you know that Elizabeth fired a few shots of her own, and blew up an entire cache of rum! So she may be more of a lady than me, but she's not to be held in such esteem as all that! She's no proper princess either!" I snapped angrily, pulling off my robe and flinging it on the bed.

"I can't believe this," I said, ripping a slit in my shift on one side, just a few inches above my knee. Well, I can't move properly in a narrow dress! I walked over to the closet and pulled out a pair of boots, jerking them on roughly and almost falling over. I snarled at her when she tried to steady me. "And I will _not_ do worse than I normally would, just because this moron is the sodding Commodore," I continued, watching my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a vagabond. Or a wench recently tumbled in the hay.

Mary raised an eyebrow at me. I stuck the knife into my boot, fully intending to cheat so I would win and humiliate Commodore I'm-An-Insufferable-Arse Norrington.

"Did you ever think that maybe all these strange things happen to you because you're not like all the other ladies?" Mary said quietly. I stared at her.

"What?" I asked, picking my blade from where it usually stood in the corner of the room.

"You heard exactly what I said. You're not like other ladies."

"No, I'm more like other village girls," I said, turning to leave and still a bit angry with Mary for what she said before, that I'm not "proper", and that I was _my _fault that I'm being forced into a duel.

"No, not like them either. You're just...different," Mary said. I turned around and she shrugged. "Somehow it just makes you likable, if infuriating."

I grinned at her and walked out, heading down the stairs into the atrium of the house, where the entrance was. It was a good sized room for a duel, I realized. There were two stairways heading up to the second floor, and not a lot of clutter in between. Norrington was already waiting for me, as was Gillette and my father. So were the other members of the bloody Royal Navy. Elizabeth hurried in from another room and stood next to my father.

"Good Heavens, Christina, what are you wearing? It is entirely indecent," my father said. I regarded him sourly.

"I think this whole ordeal is indecent, Father, so do not hold _me_ accountable for my attire," I said, standing opposite the Commodore and saluting reluctantly.

Elizabeth considered me skeptically, the slit in my shift all the way up to my thigh, and my boots covering a little more than half way up to my knee. She met my eyes and glared angrily. I could tell that she was thinking that this was how Will had seen me, nearly every day for the last eight years. I certainly shall not be doing anything to prove her wrong. The only regret I had at the moment, besides being born, was the Gillette would not stop looking at me. I think the shock of a woman's leg must have been too much for him.

"Certainly a woman's body comes as no surprise to you, Jonathon," I said airily. Why should I be ashamed? I am not doing this of my own will. Why not wreak a little havoc? He raised his eyes to mine.

"Do you mean to say that you've never seen a simple leg before? I would have thought that a man of your age and station wouldn't act quite so damn surprised," I continued. He glared at me and looked away.

I remembered Jack's words from weeks ago, in the blacksmith shop.

I grinned, "Or is it because you are incapable of wooing the...ah, fairer sex?" I asked innocently.

"Mind your tongue, Christina, you will show our guests proper respect, or you will go up to your room for the rest of the night," my father said. I sighed.

"And you say that women are fickle. Nothing would make me happier than to retire for the night, Father, but I would hate to deny our guests their request of 'a bit of a show'."

"That's enough," my father warned, and I decided that it would be a fine time to stop talking, because after all, he could just ban me from leaving the house all this week. And I did not intend for that to happen. After all, that is the only chance I have of seeing Will.

"Shall we duel, Miss Swann?" Norrington said, bowing grandly. I nodded curtly and got into position, not expecting him to attack so fast. It had been a while since I last dueled with someone, because of my injury, and I was a bit out of shape. However, I would not be beaten, at least not easily. I parried and retreated a few step, allowing him to come to me before attacking. He was better than I had expected, also, but he should be. After all, he is the Commodore, it would not suit him well if he couldn't defend himself.

I wonder would it would do to his reputation if people learned that he had been beaten by the Governor's daughter.

It was this wondering, however, that kept me off guard. I forced my mind back to the duel at hand, parrying most of the time, trying to get him to think that he had the upper hand (which he might have had anyway). The one thing that I will say about him that is to my benefit is that he fought very mechanically, and it wasn't hard for me to think about what move he would do next. Unlike Anamaria, who was constantly changing, or Jack, who was as flamboyant as he was drunk, or even Will, who would come up with a creative attack every once in a while; Commodore Norrington was, to put it simply, boring. Talented, but boring. Skilled, most definitely, but predictable. And if I could keep moving fast enough and spontaneously enough to keep him off guard, then that's how I would win.

It was not easy. His defense was flawless, and every time I saw an opening and went for it, he parried. He was fast, too, andterriblystrong. Each parry sent a shock up my armthatstung so much it was a wonder I didn'tdrop my blade.I bit my lip as I started to sweat, and moved around in circles, trying to get to the stairs where maybe I could surprise him with what not. No such luck. If the Commodore wanted you to stay somewhere, then by God he made sure you stayed there. And it was annoying me to no extent.

Perhaps the best thing Norrington's got going for him was his patience - and stamina. I would later reflect upon this and realize that I must have looked like a fool, prancing around madly, while he was calm and collected (even though his powder was running and his wig was lopsided). I was getting tired and careless, only managing a handful of legitimate hits. He hadn't hit me yet, but I had a feeling he would soon.

And I sincerely hate it when I'm right. He didn't hit me, but he knocked my blade from my hand and sent it zinging towards Elizabeth. She shrieked and jumped out of the way - it landed by her feet. Norrington stood proudly with his blade pointed at me. He didn't know that I don't stop moving unless a blade is against my throat - and even then its hard to tell if I'll give in. With Jack, he had me cornered and I pulled my dagger on him anyway.

I pulled the dagger quickly out of my boot and beat his blade away, but evidently the Commodore's been around pirates long enough to anticipate that move. He caught my wrist as I moved in to win the duel, and squeezed it. I cried out, even though hewas surenot toreally hurt me, but because I was surprised. I dropped my dagger and was disarmed and defeated. I wrenched my arm back and glared angrily at him, able to cross my arms and not pop out of my shirt for once.

"Bravo!" my father called, walking up to me and offering me his coat. I shrugged it off angrily, it was much to hot to be wearing that now. My father hung it over my shoulders, just now being concerned for my dignity. Fine timing, if you ask me.

"Christina, when next you see Will, you must tell him that he's done a fine job teaching you, a fine job! I didn't know who to think would be the winner, but obviously Commodore Norrington is much more experienced then you. Who would have known a woman could fight like that?" my father said, taking his arm back from around my shoulders and seeing the Commodore and the Royal Navy members back into the dining room for dessert.

Gillette looked at me, apparently in a state of shock. I didn't say anything, but nodded and went to go up the stairs, longing for a bath and for sleep. He grabbed my arm and turned me around.

"How do you dare, Mr. Gillette?" I said angrily, wrenching my arm back. I was still feeling rather humiliated and wasn't quite sure what my father was playing at, telling me to duel with the Commodore in the middle of a dinner party. For all he believed, I really didn't like to be made a spectacle of.

To my utter shock, Gillettelooked equally angry. "I merely wanted to congratulate you. You faired well against the Commodore, few can last as long as you did, and none ever win. Believe me, I know."

"I'll take your word for it, then, but keep in mind that I was out of practice, and just recovered from a recent and rather dire injury. With a few days of practice I would have won, of course. Unfortunately, you men think women are at your every beck and call, and so I did not have any time to prepare to sufficiently humiliate our venerable Commodore," I said haughtily.

"For someone with such a bleak outlook on men, you forget that you are about to be married to one," Gillette said,with a wry smile.I glared up at him.

"You seem to forget as well," I snarled, glancing at his hand, still gripping my arm. To my surprise - again -he started to laugh.

"You don't think I'm interested in you, do you, Miss Swann?" he said loudly. Elizabeth was still there, listening. Wonderful. She could have all the ammunition she needs to paint me the harlot.

"I don't know," I said stiffly.

He grinned. "It's all for sport, my good woman. You are too spirited for me, I think. I like a woman who is demure and obedient. I find you all too invigorating to marry and to keep, and have to worry about some other bloke setting his sights on my...unique...wife," he said. My mouth dropped open and I stared at him, completely bewildered. He chuckled again and headed into the dining room. Invigorating? Thatwas certainly a peculiar way to describe someone. I felt my face grow hot and grew more irritated.

"For your information, Will is different from most of your despicable kind! Its not a bleak outlook, its just accepting the horrid way of life," I call, my voice ringing in the atrium of the house and sounding childish to my own ears. He turned around and tossed a grin over his shoulder at me, before he disappeared into the dining room.

"Men," I grumbled, heading up the stairs. To my dismay, Elizabeth followed me.

"Quite pleased with yourself, now aren't you?" Elizabeth asked. I ignored her completely and walked into my room, where Mary had blessedly set up a bath for me. Elizabeth seemed to be upset that I'd slammed the door on her face, and stormed in after me. I pulled my hair out of its braid and walked behind the screen, still intent on ignoring her.

"Just wait until Will finds out that his fiancé pranced around half naked in front of four men," she hissed. I walked out from behind the screen, wrapped in my robe.

"You wouldn't dare," I said coldly, staring at her, quite terrified.

She smiled nastily at me. "I would. In fact, I will. Tomorrow morning, first thing," she said. I stared at her in dismay.

"Fine," I said, walking back behind the screen.

"What?" she gasped.

"Go ahead," I said uncaringly, sinking into the semi-warm water. Mary had gone through all the trouble of heating the water for me, it made me wonder how long the duel had actually lasted. Not for long though. I was preoccupied with concocting a plan that would get me to Will fast enough to explain to him why I was _not_ the whore that Elizabeth would paint me as. Which meant that I would have to sneak out tonight - after only the first damn day of my punishment - to see him. Well, I'd broken rules before, and I'd break them again. Its not like I _wanted_ to, but Elizabeth's undying hostility forced me.

"He wont want you anymore, though, if he knows that's how you act," she said desperately. I sighed, feigning contentment.

"Like I said, Elizabeth, you don't know the first thing about love. Oh, you may be right about that whole 'I'd do anything for them' bit. But love is also about trust. I trust Will, and he trusts me. Nothing you say can change that," I said, lathering soap into my hair with shaking hands. Because if I truly believed what I had just said, I wouldn't be sneaking off tonight to get to him first.

Elizabeth left the room with a slam of a door. I put my face in my hands and sighed angrily, hating the fact that she could make me doubt myself so much.

"Miss?" Mary said, walking in and closing the door quietly. I got up and wrapped myself in a robe, going over to my bureau and pulling out my clothes that Jack had bought for me at Tortuga.

"What are you doing, Christina?" Mary asked, exasperatedly. I didn't say anything, but got dressed quickly as she went behind the screen to clean up.

"Don't tell me your going about again?" Mary said, wringing her hands.

"Hush," I whispered furiously, letting her braid my hair again.

"You're going to get into so much trouble," she hissed.

"Not if I don't get caught. Mary, I need you to do me afavor," I asked, grabbing her hands and pulling her down to sit next to me. She bit her lip as I told her what Elizabeth had told me, about going to Will and telling him about how I'd let practically the entire Royal Navy see up my skirts.

"That's horrible of her. And she encouraged the duel, too," Mary said.

"Well you can bet your life that she wont be telling him that important piece of information," I said. Mary grimaced. "Here's what I need you to do," I said, walking over to my night table and pulling open the second drawer. I took out the fake bottom, just like Elizabeth had done to get her, or rather, Will's, pirate medallion. I took out the key to my room.

"I need you to go down stairs and tell my father that I've retired from the night. I'm going to lock the door and leave out the window, I'll bring one of my dresses with me so that I can come home later tomorrow and say that I went out to the market early. You let yourself in here and do whatever you will, just make sure that you unlock the door," I said.

"And where are you going for the rest of the night?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. I smiled thinly, my heart racing.

"I'm going to stay with Will," I said.

Her eyes widened, "Christina, I don't think that's such a great idea," she said, lowering her voice even more. I smiled.

"Oh, come off it, Mary, Will's a gentleman," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

She didn't laugh, "Yes, but you're not so much of a lady!" she said.

I stared at her. "I may not be entirely proper but I am in no way as slovenly as some would portray me to be."

"No! Its not that at all, but what if someone sees you? And tells your father?" she asked. I pulled out the sash that was once part of my robe, and tied it low over my forehead, tucking my hair into the back of my shirt. "Its dark. No one will recognize me," I said, sticking my dagger into my boot once again.

"What if someone does see you, or makes a target of you? What if some man on the street corners you and-"

"Well then you'll just have to pray for me, Mary. But _promise_ me you wont tell. You can meet me in the market, if it makes you feel better. You have the key to this room, just let yourself in, take one of my dresses, and hop out the window. Get Anita to lace your corset," I said, when she opened her mouth.

I smiled, "I'll be fine. If I can defend myself against the Commodore, I think I'm safe from every rogue in Port Royal," I said, heading for the window.

"What about every band of rogues?" I heard Mary whisper, as I grabbed the bag with my gown and shift in it, and climbed out the window dropping down quietly into the garden.

I had to run crouched low to get the wall, where I edged around carefully and found the exit. Just my luck, it had started to rain, and now my clothes would be wet for tomorrow. I didn't think about it, but crept quietly down the path, breaking out into a run as soon as I was far enough away from the mansion. It had started to rain rather hard, and I was soaked thoroughly in a very short amount of time. I never realized how far the blacksmith shop was from the mansion. At least the rain meant that no one was out on the streets.

I reached the market in what had to be a quarter of an hour, and searched in almost complete darkness for the blacksmith shop. I knocked on the door, wanting to keep quiet, and when no one answered, tapped on the window. I went back to the door after receiving no response.

"Come on, Will, please," I whispered, not wanting to have to explain to my father why I was soaked and in men's clothing if I had to return to the mansion. Somehow I don't think sleep walking would quite cut it. Neither would, "Its not such a big deal. I slept at an inn with Will and Jack, weeks ago. And on the commandeered ship, with about fifty other men in the same cabin!"

Will finally opened the door minutes later, shirtless and rumpled. He blinked when he saw me, and didn't move. "Christina wha-"

"Hello, Mr. Turner," I said, my teeth chattering a bit. "Could you let me in?"

He stepped back blearily and I walked into the warm shop…the fire was just dying out. Will closed the door behind me, and I turned to face him, aware of the fact that tonight would be the first night I would spend alone with Will Turner.


	9. One Bed, Two Bosoms, and a Single Troth

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

"Christina, what are you doing here?" Will asked, as I looked around a bit nervously. As soon as I stepped into the room, it seemed like it was far too small. Will rustled around behind me to put on a shirt, to my great dismay and relief.

"It's a bit of a long story, Will," I said, standing in the middle of the room and not knowing what to do with myself. After all, if I was caught here my reputation would be ruined. Just my very presence, even without anybody knowing, was a risk because I would constantly be on edge.

However, Will didn't seem to mind all of that. He walked over to me and put his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. Either he didn't know what that did to me, making my knees weak in a most infuriating way, or he was just a very cruel man and had done it on purpose. Neither changed the fact that we were standing alone in the shop and I was in a soaking wet white shirt.

Now here's the thing about white shirts when they're wet, if you didn't know. They tend to be a bit...transparent. And even in the dying glow of the fire that fact was evident. It was also a fact that Will didn't seem to keen on trying to avoid.

I shrugged his hands off nervously, stepping away and pacing around the room. I was freezing, every inch of me was soaked through. "Will, you wouldn't happen to have...a room I could go into and change...would you? And maybe some dry clothes, perhaps? It's rather cold," I chattered, thinking for a moment that it wasn't the greatest idea for me to come here. If I hadn't been quite so impulsive, like Mary says, I could have simply woke up early tomorrow and gone into town to explain to Will about the whole situation with the Commodore. And Mary, being the sensible one, couldn't have told me that instead? No, of course not, and now I stand in the middle of the shop with Will's eyes following me back and forth because I'm practically naked.

At least he cant get upset with me over that whole bit with the Commodore. All those blokes saw were my legs.

And what is it with public nudity? Am I a magnet for it or something?

I cleared my throat, crossing my arms over my chest, "Will? Clothes? Have you any?" I asked impatiently. He blinked,

"No, I'm afraid I don't, they're hanging up to dry as well," he said. I groaned and pulled my own clothes out of the bag I had taken. They were damp, but not so wet that they wouldn't dry over night. I hung them up along side Will's, and wondered fleetingly how in the world I would manage to get into my corset tomorrow. Of course I could make a fashion statement and not wear the corset at all, but the fact that my father would kill me deterred me from extreme excitement at the idea.

I also pulled my torn shift out from my bag, holding it up. It was the only thing that I brought with me that was suitable for sleeping in. I looked up and Will was still watching me closely. By now, I was beyond irritated.

"William Turner, if you truly treasure the ability of sight, I suggest you look away before I scratch out your eyeballs. Honestly, even the Commodore was just a tad more polite," I snapped. Will looked shocked, and then angry, grabbing me by the arms and growling, "If you wish to stay here, Miss Swann, I suggest you explain yourself." I glared up at him and tried to wrench my arms away, to no avail.

"I will gladly explain exactly what I meant if you _let_ _go_. The whole reason that I _came _here was to explain what I bloody meant," I said, and he let me go. I rubbed my arms angrily, not looking at him but instead turning and hiding behind a pillar so I could change into the damn shift that got me into this mess in the first place.

As I pulled my shirt over my head I saw the angry red marks on my arms where Will had gripped me so hard. I bit my lip and pulled my shift over my head quickly, now extremely angry. Not only was I forced to duel with the Commodore, by _men_, but I was also forced to _lose_ to the Commodore while dueling in an outfit that not even the most slovenly wench would see fit to wear, in front of _men_, and then forced to run all the way to this shop in the dark and the rain, by my sister, who is the equivalent of a sniveling conniving rat of a man; and _finally_ my fiancé, the _love_ of my _life_, the other half of my heart, my soul mate, my Romeo and all that good rubbish that fiancés are supposed to be - squeezes my arms as if to send them clean off. My brain needed to take a breath after that sentence.

I think I've about had it with men, for one day. Too bad I'll be spending the night with one.

And once again my heart plummeted into my stomach with that thought. Because, really, I wasn't very angry with Will. It almost pleased me to see that he was so protective of me. And it is completely not in my nature to be pleased when a man wants to keep me safe and guarded and not looked at by other members of his species. So why did I feel my face get hot and my lips start to smile when I reflected on the angry look in his eyes as I mentioned the Commodore? It was pure jealousy, not feigned and _that_ was proof enough that Will loved me. Wasn't it?

I walked out from behind the pillar to see him look up. He was staring at the pillar as if trying to bore a hole in it or something. I felt my face redden even further, half embarrassment and half pleasure equals total annoyance. He looked down at my legs, which were exposed up to the thigh, and then he looked away quite quickly, flustered.

"This is what I had to tell you about," I said. He didn't look up at me. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and tugged at it nervously. "I can explain," I said, but he didn't listen, merely walked over to wear his bed was in the corner of the room. Bed. Will. Cue panic.

He, however, must have been thinking something different as he pulled a blanket from his bed and brought it over to me, draping it over my shoulders and tugging me over to sit in front of the fire. He picked up the bellows and began to fan the fire, until it sprang up and warmed the whole room over again. Then he walked back and sat facing me, pulling my hands into his.

He reached over and pulled the side of my shift over, exposing my shoulder. I swallowed hard and dared not move. He traced his thumb over the marks from where he grabbed me, and met my eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, fixing my makeshift night gown and pulling his hands away swiftly. I held on, no longer as nervous as before. Or maybe I'd reached a point where I was so nervous that I couldn't even feel it anymore. I didn't break eye contact with him, but tossed my hair back and leaned closer. Where these brazen acts came from, I'll never know.

"I'm afraid I quite like it here, Will," I said lowly, smiling at him. He swallowed and said nothing. I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder, arranging the blanket so that my legs were covered.

"The Commodore and his men came for dinner tonight," I said softly. He said nothing, only stroked my still wet hair and waited for me to continue. "I suppose I should first tell you that I'm not supposed to be here," I said.

"Well, I knew that," he scoffed, nudging me and imploring me to continue.

I sighed, "I'm not supposed to see you at all this week, I'm in trouble again," I said sadly. He started to laugh, to my indignation.

"What? What's so funny?" I demanded, pulling away and glaring at him. He pulled me closer, after having stopped laughing.

"You couldn't even wait a day, could you?" he asked, leaning in and kissing me on the mouth, taking advantage of the fact that it was open and about to make for a retort. Sly bastard.

After several mind boggling moments, he broke the kiss and we sat with our noses touching. I kept my eyes closed and swallowed, trying to remember exactly what I was going to say. I opened my eyes slowly, to see him smiling at me. Damn it, I definitely should not have come here tonight. Or any night of our still unmarried life. I would like to keep my reputation somewhat intact.

"You were saying?" he asked, a grin spreading over his lips. I shoved him away and stood up.

"I'll never get through with the story if you keep on interrupting to laugh at me or kiss me or what have you," I scolded, trying desperately not to laugh. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back down next to him.

"You were telling me, I think, how your fine nightgown got to be like this," he hinted, touching my leg gently and meeting my eyes. I bit my lip and tried very hard not to shriek "Take me, Will Turner, I'm yours!" because the tension in this room was reaching very high levels and it was suddenly much to hot and I would have to run out into the rain to clear my mind up.

With my luck, it's probably stopped raining.

"I'd appreciate it if you tried to remember that I have a reputation to keep, Will," I said shakily. He looked ashamed and made to move away. I didn't stop him, and I think he looked hurt, but instead I arranged the blanket over my legs and turned to him.

"Anyway, as I was saying. The Commodore came to sup with us and I was forced to attend yet again. I really would have preferred to stay in my room and read, but since I am such a devoted daughter I decided that I would comply to grace my guests with my presence."

Will grinned at me. "Which of course means you were a nightmare all through dinner, right?"

I took a breath and went on, ignoring his very accurate statement. "And it was going well except for the fact that it seemed like Gillette, the First Mate, do you remember? Yes, well he it seemed wanted a good deal more of my presence than I was willing to give."

At this, Will looked angry but I held up a hand and he let me continue.

"So then somehow, I'm not quite sure, we got to the topic of my learning how to duel and quite well, thanks to you," I added the compliment to try to calm him down, "And then Elizabeth decided that it would be a good idea if she suggest a demonstration. And my father agreed, and then it was set that I would duel with the Commodore after we were finished eating. And that is how I ended up in such a state of disgrace and undress in front of the Commodore and his men," I said hastily, and except for the last few words the whole thing seemed very trivial and foolish of me to run all the way here to tell him.

"Well, I suppose the most important question is -"

"I really didn't want to, Will, I swear, they made me! I mean, I would have never, ever worn something like that in front of anyone but you, and that would even have to be after we're married!" I said, scared that he would upset and angry and call me a wench and call off the wedding.

"Which is why the most important question is -"

"Please don't be upset, Will, I'm so sorry and I swear no matter what my father says or what my sister does or even if its for the bloody King of England or what not himself I will never do such a thing, I promise!" I said, to my horror I started to cry. I really must have been extremely overtired to cry over such a thing, but alas, what can one do?

"I was going to ask you if you won," Will said gently, pulling me into his lap and kissing me on the forehead. I sighed and looked up at him, my nose must have been running and my eyes puffy and red and I'm sure I looked entirely enticing, but Will just smiled and brushed my wet hair out of my eyes. I smiled at him, "Will you be very upset if I say no?"

"No?" Will gasped, mock appalled. I smiled at him and shook my head slowly.

"For a powdered, puffy mongrel, he really is very good," I said, bowing my head in shame.

Will smiled, "Does that mean that he could even defeat me?" he teased.

I laughed, "Will, _I_ defeated you."

"That's only because I let you win."

"Oh really? Do you fancy another duel, Mr. Turner?" I demanded. He laughed and pulled me up.

"As a matter of fact, I do, Miss Swann," he said. I scowled at him.

"You would take advantage of a tired, soggy old lady who dueled once today and ran all the way here in the rain? That isn't very charitable."

Will didn't smile at that, and said, "You know I would not take advantage of you, Christina," He led me over to the bed so that I almost howled "Would not take advantage of me, my arse!" but stopped and stood in front of it.

"I'll sleep by the fire, you take the bed," he said. He took a pillow for himself, and a small blanket, leaving me with the large, newly quilted one. He must have made a nice sum of money on those last few orders, because the quilt really was quite nice.

I sat on the bed a bit uncomfortably as he kissed me on the cheek to say goodnight and left to lay by the fire to watch it burn out. I shifted uneasily and lay down, trying to ignore how the whole bed smelled like him (which was better than one would think, considering bathing is not always a daily habit for blacksmiths) and how my cheek burned and I was restless. I could hear him breathing as I watched his silhouette by the fire and it struck me as funny that it was not the first time I'd been alone in a room at night with Will. It happened before, at Tortuga, and Jack had practically passed out from the hard day of commandeering a ship and drinking a lot of alcoholic beverages.

I sighed and rolled over a few times, not finding a comfortable spot. "Will," I whined.

"Hmm?" he said, pretending to be half asleep and failing miserably.

"I cant sleep," I groaned, sitting up.

Will said nothing for a while and then barked "What would you like me to do about it?" I winced, knowing that it was a very awkward situation that we were in. It wouldn't do for him to lay with me in the same bed, even in the most innocent of ways, but I wondered if it would be okay if I lay on the floor.

"I'm sorry if I caused any trouble coming here," I said quietly, feeling very shy.

Will sighed, "You're no trouble, love, but why did you feel that you had to run all the way here just to tell me about your day?"

"I thought you would be upset with me," I said.

Will swore under his breath, "Why would I be upset at something like that?" I could tell he was aggravated with me. I would be aggravated with me too.

"Because my sister was planning on coming here and telling you what had happened, except she would have said it differently," I said awkwardly, wishing I had never even started the conversation to begin with. If I was bright, I would have not even come, and trusted Will the way I told Elizabeth I did. And then a thought struck me - what if Elizabeth had _wanted_ to make me come here? Since when did she become such a devious little thing? And since when had I played right into her hands?

"Do you really think that I would believe her?" Will asked. I didn't say anything. He would be so upset with me if he knew that I did. Which I think he did know, but just wasn't saying.

"I feel awful that you have to lay on the floor, Will," I whispered.

I watched him groan angrily and sit up, "Cant do anything to help that, Christina," he said, sitting stiffly.

I got up and walked over to him, taking the quilt with me. "It's cold over there," I said, because the bed was on the opposite side of the room and the heat from the fire barely reached it.

"Would you like me to take the bed then?" he asked, starting to rise. I shook my head and knelt next to him.

"You cant just sleep with that tiny rag," I said, nodding towards his blanket. Will swallowed. I smiled at him, "I've had a hard day," I said, stretching out next to him and putting my head on the pillow, that, I realized, was big enough for the both of us, but not too big. My sister's huge head certainly wouldn't have fit on it.

Will laid down next to me and I turned around so my back was to him and his arm around my waist, the big quilt covering us both. I watched the fires dance down until only dull embers remained. "Good night, Will," I whispered, closing my eyes.


	10. The Turning Point

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A little less than a week later I lay in my bed, ready to go to sleep. Surprisingly, I had _not_ been caught, in fact, I doubt that my father was even the least bit suspicious, although Elizabeth had been watching me like a hawk. She walked in constantly, as if she thought she were going to catch me sneaking out that window. I smiled at her complacently and picked up a book from the side of my bed, flipping through the wrinkled and musty pages leisurely.

"Is there something you want, Lizzy?" I asked kindly, smiling up at her.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't know what you're up to but you are doing something and when I find out, you will be in a lot of trouble," she said, grabbing a ribbon from my night table and walking out again. Good Lord, she is one paranoid little girl. It's not like I'm up to anything…much.

I had been slipping out of the house early each morning with Mary, entering the blacksmith shop through the alley way door and spending at least an hour with Will. I had decided against going to see him each night, considering that would most likely end up in me not behaving in a seemly way for an unmarried woman. But then, considering my age, it is an unfortunate thing that I _am _still unmarried. Most women my age are married and have three children by now…I would have expected that to be my sister's fate at least, seeing as how she is so proper and beautiful and has had ever so many suitors. My sister and I, it seems, are very strange. That is about the only thing we have in common, aside from parents (though I haven't quite gotten over the notion that I may be adopted) and birthdays.

The day after tomorrow my sentence would be lifted, and I intended to have Will over for tea. I quite liked flaunting the fact that we were together in front of Elizabeth, after all the trouble she went through to make me look like someone less than a lady in front of Will.

Did I not mention it? She sent Mary to him with a letter asking him to meet her the day before yesterday, because there was a lot of things she'd like to discuss with him. Mostly they were about me, and she had taken the liberty of reading the note to me right before she slipped it into a basket of fresh bread that she also had made for him. Actually, _she_ didn't make it, because my sister, like myself, if completely illiterate when it comes to preparing food. Anyway, I had to feign fear when she read the note to me, and then laughed when Will sent back a note he had Mary write saying that he already knew about the Commodore and the duel and what not, and was not in the least bit upset. In fact, he said, the only thing he truly felt he had to be angry about was the fact that I didn't win. Elizabeth was sorely disgruntled and had taken even more time to make me miserable than usual. I was tired just putting up with it. In fact, I was despising the whole rift between us, not that we'd ever been particularly close since Mother left. But I found when I had idle time, I wished the Elizabeth and I could be like normal sisters instead of competitors all the time. Or rather, her thinking she was competition. And after thinking that, I chided myself on being so self-important, because at any given moment Will could have chosen her over me, considering how he had spent a good eight years fawning over her.

Then there was my Father, who seemed intent on inviting the Commodore every bloody chance he could get and showcasing Elizabeth. This I minded not at all, because it irritated her to no extent, except for the fact that with Commodore Norrington came First Mate Gillette, and my father seemed thrilled at the idea that Gillette fancied me - which, I'll have to remind you, he does not. Apparently, I am too "invigorating", whatever that means.

Mary and I went to the market a lot, everyday actually, after Will and I had our forbidden time together, because I suppose that really is what it is. Mary loved going to the dress shop, but she wouldn't let me buy her another dress. And recently, Mary seemed to have taken a liking to our esteemed Commodore. She had bumped into him two days ago, and he - being the polite chap that he really is - looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Mary is really very pretty, but dithered like an idiot so that when we walked away I felt obliged to tease her mercilessly. For the days after that, whenever the Commodore came over I wanted to dress her up, but she wouldn't have it, saying it was much too risky. I told her that I'm sure Elizabeth wouldn't mind, considering it would give her a break from the Commodore trying to get her to be interested in him again.

However, he had met Mary for tea every day since they met (which was really only yesterday and today) and she'd spent her time with him, giving me more time with Will. I hope she doesn't fancy him, because that will put her in a rather tight spot. Not that anyone should feel that they have any right to complain, after all, I am the Governor's daughter and look who I'm marrying. I mentioned this to Mary and she made sure to braid my hair extra tightly, leaving me scratching at it all through tea, while Gillette and the Commodore looked at me like I had ringworm or something. Lovely friend, isn't she?

Mary came hustling in again, this time to braid my hair so it would be in waves tomorrow. I sat up and let her do what she would, looking out the open balcony. It was still early, the sun had just begun to set, but I was feeling tired so I intended to go to bed early. Before I tucked myself away, there was something that I had to ask of my father. Since I'd been such a _good_ girl, there is not reason why he shouldn't give it to me. It had to do with the absence of dear Mr. Brown.

"Mary, do you fancy going into town again tomorrow morning?" I asked, craning my neck to look at her. She tugged my hair harshly and I swore, trying to swat at her but unable to do so.

"What else do we do every morning, Christina? Of course I'll go into town," she said, sounding annoyed.

"Well, excuse me, Mary, but you happen to enjoy going into town. I seem to recall a certain tall, not quite handsome, in my opinion, and not so young man who makes you get as red as an strawberry!"

"I don't know who you're talking about," Mary said stiffly, pulling my hair even tighter.

"Christ, woman, will you let up on the hair? Its not a weave, you know, it hurts when you pull it so. And I'm talking about a certain Commodore-'Please-call-me-James'-Norrington. You made me lace up your corset extra tight these past two days, and even used some of my powder just for his benefit. Not on your face, mind you," I teased, and then yelped as she yanked my head back. "Damn you, Mary," I gritted. She fastened a ribbon and shot up off the bed, turning around with her hands on her hips.

"You are an awful woman," she said, her face flushed a lovely shade of near purple.

I grinned, "I'm really not. And you were the one who was berating me about my neck for the past five days, so this is what you get."

"That was because it looked like he took a bite out of you, and it was rather obvious. I'm surprised that you're father didn't find out!"

"Find out what?" said my father, walking down the hall at _just_ the appropriate moment. Damn. I shot up off my bed and nodded at Mary, telling her to get the hell out of my room before she said something stupid and I was imprisoned for another week.

"Find out what I had to speak with you with, Father, let's take a walk, shall we?" I asked hastily, taking him by the arm.

"Christina, what has gotten into you? Do you feel ill? You shouldn't be walking about in your night gown, you know, it isn't proper."

I sighed. "Father, I seem to recall myself walking around in little more than a shift a few days ago, in front of the Commodore and his men. Why can't I walk around in a night gown, with a robe, that is not cut up in any way, in a house that has no strange unmarried men in it?" I asked.

My father said, "Well, I suppose you're right. Such a clever child, always finding ways to prove me wrong. You're lucky that Mr. Turner has agreed to marry you, I can't think of another man who would suffer such an uninhibited wife. Now what was it you wanted to talk about with me?"

I'm very lucky that my mind is able to work in mysterious ways. Because first of all, the reason I am able to prove my father wrong all the time is because he _is_ wrong all the time. Secondly, Mr. Turner did not _agree_ to marry me, he _asked_ for my hand in marriage. Thirdly, and fourthly, I can't think of anyone else I'd want to marry and since when do men _suffer_ their wives? It seems to me that women are the ones who suffer their husbands, after all, men are so very dim witted and slow that it is amazing the human race can function at all. And it was definitely my mother who was forced to suffer my father, because after all _she_ was the one who ran off, wasn't she?

After all those thoughts, however, I was able to say, "Well, the last time Mr. Turner and I had the opportunity to speak, he told me that Mr. Brown was never at the shop anymore. The last he'd heard, Mr. Brown had flitted off to Tortuga, and it seems unlikely that he will be returning. Which leaves the shop without an owner, because after all, Mr. Brown did own it, and he didn't leave Will in charge. Which, of course, makes it public propert and, seeing as how you are the Governor, and you must see what it to be done about it."

"Well, you're right. Perhaps I'll give it to Mr. Turner, as a bit of a dowry, what do you think about that, sweeting?" I frowned.

"Yes, well, that is what you could do. But I had hoped that I would be able to buy the deed to it and give it to Will, as a gift from me. I haven't seen him in such a long time, you know…"

…Yes…since this morning…

"You are going to make a splendid little wife, Christina, that is a lovely idea. Of course you may do so, in fact, I'll get the deed to you tomorrow and you may give it to him the day after, how does that sound, darling?" my father asked, looking entirely pleased with himself, as if the whole grand plan was his idea. This is how we must manipulate men, I suppose.

"It sounds wonderful, Father, what a brilliant idea," I said, kissing him on the cheek and flouncing off to my bedroom…

…only to be met by Elizabeth. She crossed her arms over her chest, her brush in her hand. "Is that how you did it, then, Christina?" she sneered at me. I walked past her and pulled open the blankets of my bed, then walked out to the balcony to watch the last of the sun set.

"Good evening, Elizabeth," I said calmly as she walked out and stood behind me.

"So you've just been giving him gifts then? That's how you got him to love you? How very pathetic," she snapped. I sighed.

"Don't you think you're being a bit ridiculous, Elizabeth?" I asked, not bothering to turn around.

"It makes a girl wonder what nature of gifts you've been giving him, to make him want to marry you," she hissed nastily. "Or to force him into it. He's a very honorable man, you know, Will is." Oh, I can't believe her.

"He is honorable, another thing of which you know nothing," I concurred shooting her a nasty look and turning around in time to feel her pull the ribbon out of my hair and dump it off the railing of the balcony. Oh, very mature. "Go away, Elizabeth, I want to go to sleep."

"That girl can hold a grudge like nobody's business," said an unfamiliar voice from behind me. An unfamiliar, deep, masculine voice from behind me. I turned around to see Richard Millar, our late butler's son, standing in my door way. I hadn't spoken with him since Elizabeth and I had almost ripped each other's eyes out. Technically, that happens almost every day, but I hadn't seem him since before I was banned from leaving the house.

"Hello, Richard," I said politely, pulling my rob closed and not making a move to walk any nearer to him than I already was. As if on cue, it has begun to get darker. Lovely, a man is standing outside my doorway after dark. As if my reputation is as upstanding as can survive something like that. But of course.

"I haven't seen much of you lately, Miss Swann," he said with just as much careful politeness, but I was very aware of the fact that he was taking in the sight of me in my robe and night gown, and now my hair loose down my back. Usually, it would be up. It is not seemly for women to have their hair loose and down, I'd learned that quickly enough the first time I'd gone out like that and everyone looked at me as if I was a tourist from Tortuga or what have you.

"I can'timagine why. I haven't gone anywhere," I said, walking up quickly to the bed and fixing the blankets. I was starting to get nervous, because no matter how much faith Will had in me, if Elizabeth told him that there was a man in my room after dark - well, no man could be so understanding as all that. "Well, it was nice to see you again, Richard, but I really must be getting to sleep. Beauty rest and all that," I stammered, holding up a blanket to my chest. He watched me with his storm gray eyes, which I had at first thought were incredibly pretty but now wished that I had some sand or something to throw in them. He had a small, unintelligible smile playing at the corners of his lips and I was getting fidgety.

"You don't need any," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Beauty rest, I mean. You don't need any."

I sighed angrily. "As sweet as that is of you to say, I really had hoped to get to sleep. I've had a trying day in the market, and I'm very tired. Good night," I said, walking up to him with my jaw set. I reached for the door, only to have him grab my arm rather hard. I flinched inwardly, but kept glaring up at him, fully prepared to scream but not wanting to. After all, he is Henry's son, and Henry was ever so kind to my sister and I when we were younger.

"I would ask that you unhand me, Mr. Millar," I said softly, tugging my arm. He didn't let go. I felt my heart start to pound faster, and I met his eyes. He wasn't smiling anymore, but looking at me very peculiarly.

"I remember seeing you when you were fifteen," he said faintly. "I had come to visit my father. Turner was here, he was looking at your sister like she was a goddess. And you were so sad. You didn't even see me, but I was the only man who ever looked at you first, without noticing your sister. Do you not realize that?" he said. I felt my throat get tight, remembering how horrible it felt when I was fifteen.

"Let go of my arm, Mr. Millar," I said, harshly.

"You never noticed, did you? Too busy fawning over him, weren't you? I should be the one to marry you, he never treated you the way you deserved," he spat, and I could smell rum on his breath, the scent easily recognizable from all the time spent with Jack.

"Let go of me, or do you think that assaulting is the way I deserve be treated?" Still no luck. He leaned in closer and I bit my lip, wanting very much to hit him.

"Hello, Father," I said loudly, and Richard started back, looking around wildly and releasing my arm. "Good night, Mr. Millar," I snapped, pushing him out of my room, taking advantage of his confusion, and slamming the door, locking it. I walked quickly over to my dresser, running a brush through shakily my hair and staring at myself in the mirror. I tried to find something of my appearance that was similar to Elizabeth, trying to justify that I wasn't too horribly inferior. We have the same shape eyes. My lips pale in comparison to hers, my hair nowhere near as curly and I am not blonde. My nose is the same shape, just larger, unfortunately, but not pointed up prettilylike hers is. I have two birthmarks one on each cheek, but I do not freckle like she does in the sun. My skin is darker, especially with all the time I spent in the sun recently. We're not completely different. It's not completely preposterous that I was chosen over Elizabeth.

I glared at the door, angry at how easily Richard was able to remind me of how invisible I was in the past. It's ridiculous; that was five years ago, and gradually I had become less transparent and more solid to Will since then.

I jumped upon hearing a knock on my door. "Who is it?" I asked, walking over and reaching for the doorknob.

"It's Mary, let me in," Mary's muffled voice came through the wood. I pulled open the door quickly.

"What happened? I heard you talking to someone and then the door slammed, did Elizabeth...?" Mary asked. I smiled and shook my head no.

"Well, what happened? And your hair - I told you to leave it up, you little twit," she teased. I walked over to the bed and sat down, letting her braid my hair again.

"Mr. Millar decided to pay me a visit," I said offhandedly, after debating whether or not I should tell her. I heard her grimace from behind me.

"He's a bit of a nuisance, he is," she said, fastening my hair with a ribbon and putting it over my shoulder. I stood up and she took my robe, hanging it up on a bed post and turning to me.

"What do you mean?" I asked. She sighed.

"Well, he's always rather forward with the maids. I can't tell you how many times I had to chase him out of the kitchen and away from Anita," Mary said slowly, untying her apron and throwing it disgustedly into a corner. "Secondly, he's a bit over fond of his drink, if you know what I mean, and he is a smidgen depressing, to tell the truth. What did he say to you?"

"He just told me that Will never noticed me when Elizabeth around. A bit blunt, I think, when he said that Will would look at my sister like she was a goddess and completely ignored me for the rat that I am or something of the sort…and then he said that he was the only man who had looked at me first and not my sister. Does wonders for that little bint of self-esteem that I have, don't you think?"

"Just ignore him, Christina," Mary said, looking angry, getting up to blow out the candle and leave. "He's just upset - he was rather well off when his father was around. Now he has to work for his money, and he's not over fond of that either. I think he just wants to marry in high places so he's set for life, and seeing as how you're engaged, he just drank a bit too much and forgot. I've seen him hounding Elizabeth in the garden, too, but she showed him the rather sharp side of her tongue. Don't you worry about it. I'll lock up your room if you want, when I leave."

"Good night, Mary," I said softly, laying down and closing my eyes. She didn't say anything, and I heard the lock turn as she closed the door and walked down the hall to the maids' chamber.

I woke up a few hours later, hearing someone cry out. Tonight I had been sleeping lightly, and had forgotten to close the doors to the balcony. I got up and pulled on my robe, closing the doors. It was a bit chilly tonight. I walked across the room and unlocked my door, taking a candle with me and fumbling with the match. Once it was lit, I walked down the hall until I came to my sister's room, where I heard her crying through the door. I rolled my eyes and reached out, swearing as the wax from the candle made its way onto my hand. I opened the door and peeked in, seeing Elizabeth sitting up with her arms wrapped around her knees, crying softly.

"Elizabeth?" I said hoarsely, slightly worried. For all her tough façade, it seems, she is not made of ice. I wondered if Mr. Millar had visited her too, tonight, and felt something akin to dread settle in my stomach. The door to her balcony was open too, letting a cold wind rush in. Dark clouds half covered the moon, it looked exactly the same as the night she had been kidnapped.

"Elizabeth, whatever is the matter?" I asked, walking over to her and sitting on the corner of her bed. She looked up at me, in the faint glow of the candle her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair a mess. Eleanor, evidently, is not good with braids. "What's wrong?" I whispered, placing the candle on the nightstand.

"I dreamt about them," she said, sniffling. "The pirates," as if I needed her to expand. I nodded, not looking away from her but a bit of at a loss of what to do - this was the same girl who, earlier today, had accused me of sleeping with Will as a means of getting him to propose to me. Unfortunately, being related to her made me obligated to care for her, even if it didn't work the other way around.

"They were awful, rank and disgusting, and I dreamt that they did awful things. I dreamt that you and Will and Mr. Sparrow didn't come in time - and I dreamt…remember on the Black Pearl, the day they made us walk the plank…their hands were so vile, Christina, I dreamt about that day…when the ship blew up I thought Will had died…" she started to cry again. I remembered that day horribly, having dreams about it myself a couple of times since it happened, different, horrible outcomes. Seeing the ship blown to pieces and thinking that Will still might have been in it was the most frightening thing I ever had to think of. The only things that I never told Mary mostly had to do with those pirates.

"Elizabeth, shh, Will is fine. He'll be coming for tea the day after tomorrow, you can talk to him then if you like," I said, kicking myself inwardly but knowing how terrible she felt. I knew Will was fine, it was easy to console myself after such awful dreams because I saw him every morning. Elizabeth never saw him anymore and it was plain to see she was still very much in love with him. And even if that jeopardized me, she was still my sister and I could not be so heartless to her.

"Really?" she asked, wiping her eyes and looking at me. I sighed quietly and nodded, sitting stiffly as she threw her arms around me for a hug. "Go to sleep now, Elizabeth, I must be getting back to my room." I said, standing up and tucking her in as if I was her mother. She smiled and closed her eyes, looking like a perfect little angel as the clouds moved away from the moonlight that bathed her. I sighed and picked up my candle, which had by now burned low. Amazingly, it had stayed lit through the wind from the balcony. I walked out of her room, closing her door quietly , and made my way back to my room.

* * *

"Good morning, miss!" Mary said happily, pulling out my dress and corset, and handing me my shift. I had gotten a new one made, fortunately, do you know how hard it is to walk in a shift that gets its torn pieces all tangled up with your other skirts? Why women had to wear so much damned cloth in the Caribbean, I'll never know.

I got up groggily, and asked for the time. "It's nearly eleven," Mary said, pulling me out of bed so she could straighten up the blankets. "Nearly eleven! Mary, Will have expected me by now, I'm usually there at nine!" I said, running behind the screen to put my shift on and waiting for her to lace up my corset.

"I think he'll understand if you overslept for a day," Mary said snappishly, pulling the laces extra tight. She is such a wench. I gasped for breath and put my hand over my chest, trying very hard not to faint, "Mary, do you think you could allow me at least a little bit of air?" I groused, craning my neck to glare at her.

I walked out from behind the screen and saw what dress Mary had picked out for today. It was bright red. "Do you want me to look like a harlot?" I asked incredulously.

She looked offended, "I'll have you know that this dress is my favorite out of all the dresses you have," she said, helping me into it and pushing me to sit in front of my vanity and mirror.

"So why don't _you_ wear it?"

She pulled a brush hastily through my hair, not bothering to answer, and braided it intricately on the top of my head. "You'll have to bring a parasol today, there is no way a hat will fit over that," she said helpfully, going over to my closet once again and pulling out a subduing cream dress for herself. The bright red tint of her hair was all the color she needed, it seemed. She quickly put her hair into a French braid - I'll never figure out how she was able to do that - and turned to me, powdering my face and then hers. She seemed in such a hurry to leave today. I wonder if it has something to do with the Commodore…

"Let's go," she said, grabbing my arm and we ran out of my room and down the stairs. The carriage was already waiting for us, and she practically shoved me in and tumbled in after me, fussing with the neckline of her dress. I sighed exasperatedly, "What's with all the rush, Mary?" I asked.

"You overslept," she accused.

"Yes, well you let me," I retorted.

"Well, now we're late."

"For what?"

"Nothing. Tea," she said.

I grinned, "Do you mean to tell me that you took the liberty of setting up a date?" I asked.

She blushed, "Please do not be cross with me," she said, a small smile betraying her lips.

I smiled back, "Of course not. I just can't believe that one can be so taken with the _Commodore_ of all people!" I said.

She regarded me coldly, "He's not that bad, you know. He is rather handsome, and he is a gentleman. I don't know how your sister found the audacity to turn him down," she said.

"Will Turner," I explained, and Mary hit me with her fan.

It must have rained the night before, because the streets of the market were muddy. Animals were milling about, as usual, but at a more chaotic pace than before, and this time the pigs were relishing in the mud, chasing shrieking women and laughing children. The men seemed very exasperated indeed.

"Does this mean that I wont see Will today?" I complained as Mary dragged me over to our restaurant. This time we would not be eating outside, because Mary let the doorman usher her inside. I pouted as she led me over to a tall man with a white wig, whose back was to us. Obviously, it was the Commodore.

He turned around and smiled upon seeing Mary. "Miss Pearl," he said pleasantly, kissing her gloved knuckles. Luckily it wasn't too well lit in this restaurant, because she blushed horribly and I was the only one who could tell.

"And Miss Swann, how lovely it is to see you," he said.

I grinned back at him through my teeth, "Good day, Commodore Norrington," _Lovely to see you_, my petticoated arse. He led us over to a table and pulled a chair out for Mary. She smiled happily up at him, and for her sake I hope he wasn't as priggish as he seemed.

"Miss Swann," First Mate Gillette was seated next to me. Joy. "You look very…bright…today," he smiled cheekily at me, nodding at my bright red dress. Oh, Mary will pay dearly.

"Invigorating, I'm sure," I said dryly, and Gillette chuckled and nodded in approval.

The Commodore took the liberty of ordering food for both me and Mary. I am ever grateful, to be sure. I sat in what had to be two hours of completely boredom while the Commodore paid compliment after compliment to Mary, and she lapped steadly grew pinker and pinker in the face. Actually, I am being rather cruel. Norrington, surprisingly, was a rather witty man, in his own way…I found even myself, the self proclaimed critic, laughing at one of his quips. Elizabeth would not have been so miserable if she had married this man.

Gillette wanted to talk about my skill with a blade, much to my dismay, and there was a whole conversation about it. It was a rather loud conversation too, so that the rest of the people in the restaurant were pretending not to here but were really all ears. The Commodore paid attention solely to Mary, however, and I was happy for that and for her. But alas, time flies when you truly wish to be somewhere else, it seems, and soon it was time to go. I got up first, perhaps looking a bit rude, but not really caring at this point, and led the way to the door. I walked out and waited for Mary to regain some of her wits, and then suddenly something large and heavy collided with the back of my legs and sent me careening into the mud; just at the same moment that Mary had walked up to me. I grabbed her arms and we both fell, she shrieking and me laughing, floundering in the mud with the culprit - a very large pig.

Everyone in the market place stopped to watch the commotion, and Commodore Norrington, being that gentleman that he is, slipped and slid across the mud to help Mary up. Nevermind me, I just love laying in mud. I grinned and grabbed onto her again, to "help myself up" and sending both her and the Commodore back down. I laughed loudly and stood up, covered from head to toe in mud, "Oh, dear, I am so very sorry Mary! Commodore!" but I was laughing so hard that my stomach hurt and I fell over again promptly, from lack of air.

"Christina!" I heard a voice that I'd missed all morning call. I looked up see Will standing over me, looking perturbed. He picked me up and looked me over, I was caked from head to toe with mud. I turned around to see Mary and the Commodore getting up shakily. He was apologizing profusely, evidently having landed on her in a rather compromising position. Mary shot me a nasty look.

"You look beautiful today," Will teased, I grinned and kissed him on lips, thereby covering him with mud as well.

"Will, you're welcome to come to the mansion, if you like. My sentence isn't over until tomorrow, but I don't think my father will mind. And there is something that I'd like to give to you," I said, smiling and turning back to Mary. We made out way over to the Commodore and Mary, "Commodore Norrington, you could come back to my father's mansion to clean up, if you like," I said politely. Mary blanched and shook her head, and the Commodore declined, seeing her desperation. I smiled.

"Well, come now, Mary, the carriage is over there. Thank you for the meal, Commodore," I said, nodding at him. Mary stalked off to the carriage, Will and I followed her.

"Don't even ask," Mary said sourly to the driver.

"Father!" I called, standing in the hallway of the mansion. My father made his way down the stairs slowly, his eyes widening as he saw Will and I standing together, holding hands and completely covered with drying mud. Mary had went around and entered through the kitchen, were she would be getting cleaned up. Nice to know that the kitchen also doubles as a wash room.

"Christina, I thought I told you that you weren't to see Mr. Turner for a week!" my father said crossly. Oh dear, I had undermined his authority.

"I haven't been seeing Will, father -"

Will coughed. If he doesn't get over his stupidity soon, I may have to make Jack's eunuch theory true.

"But Mary and I had gone to tea with the Commodore - he was kind enough to invite us - and surely you must know that it rained last night so streets are terrible…and to make a long story short, someone's pigcollided into me and we all - the Commodore, Mary, and I - fell in. I asked the Commodore if he'd like to come here to clean up, but he declined, and Mary decided that it would be best if she went home. And Will saw me, and came over to see if I was okay. He wanted to see me here to make sure I was all right, and I invited him to stay because there is something I'd like to give him - did you see to it, Father?" I asked. With my father, it is best to give a large amount of information quickly. His mind cannot process it all, and so he must agree to make sure he doesn't make a prat of himself.

"Yes, of course, but do get cleaned up, Christina, you look a mess. And the gift for Mr. Turner is in my study, sweeting, bring it down when you're done. We'll be in the tea room," my father said.

"Gift?" Will asked, tugging on my hand. I grinned and kissed him on the lips again, my father tutted and I scurried away.

"You'll see," I whispered, and made my way up the stairs as fast as my heavy dress would allow. I bumped into Elizabeth along the way.

"Good heavens, Christina! What happened to you?" she asked, taking in my muddy, sodden apparel. "It's a long story…it rained last night, did you know? Anyway, I must be off to get changed," I said gaily, walking past her and into my room.

Mary was waiting for me already, having washed up and got into her maid's uniform. She looked entirely clean, except for a bit of mud that was still in her French braid. She looked very cross with me indeed.

"That was not very nice, what you did," she said. She gestured to the tub that had been filled with water, and I stripped out of my gown and shift, hopping in quickly.

"Hell, Mary, it's cold!" I complained, scrubbing away anyway, the mud making me itchy.

"That's what you get," she scolded. "It was awful, knocking me into James like that. How mortifying, we were so mud caked and you really made me look like an oaf," she said, handing me my robe and sitting me in front of my dresser. I dried off quickly and grabbed a new shift, buttoning it up and letting Mary lace me into my corset again. She had picked out a yellow dress with a floral print this time, it was a bit better than the red dress that had seen better days.

"How am I supposed to clean this?" Mary asked sourly, picking up the dress gingerly. "Mary, that dress is hopeless. Just throw it out," I said offhandedly.

"No, this dress is so pretty. I'll have to clean it," she said, fixing my hair up and tying yellow ribbons in.

"James must never want to see me again," Mary said quietly, looking upset.

I stood up to face her, "Listen to me, Mary, I've done my share of stupid and embarrassing things in front of Will, and we're to be married. Part of being in a relationship is being comfortable enough to do such things, and still being able to look each other in the eyes," I said, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

She smiled at me thinly, "Really?" she asked, turning me around and powdering me up. She took out a bottle and sprayed some rose smelling stuff on me, and handed me a pair of gloves.

"Of course," I said, smiling at her from the mirror as she fastened the string of black pearls around my neck.

"He really is quite nice, Christina, and charming…and handsome," Mary said, sitting on my bed and grinning prettily.

I snorted, "Are you talking about the Commodore or his wig?" I asked. Mary tossed her fan at me and I ducked.

"Get out!" she said loudly, biting her lips to keep from laughing. I curtsied to her,

"As you wish, Mrs. Commodore," and ducked as she threw another object at me.

"I haven't forgiven you yet!" she warned, and I knew it was probably best not to upset her too much. She was a gentle-hearted thing, but when upset she had quite a talent for revenge. When we were both thirteen, I'd unwittingly made her the center of attention one night at dinner, and had had to endure a week of extra lacy dresses, burnt biscuits, and insufferably tight braids.

I made my way down the hall and into my father's study, picking up the little piece of paper on his desk. It was the deed to the blacksmith shop. I smiled and slipped it into my pocket, after debating whether or not I should play a harlot and slip it down the front of my dress. Lord knows where that would lead me…

I made my way down to the tea room and walked in, seeing many things at once. One, Will was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Elizabeth. Mary was there, her face was red and she looked like she'd been crying. And the Commodore was present as well.

"Commodore Norrington -" I said, how the hell did you get here so damn fast? He looked at me hard, after glaring once more at Mary. She started to cry again. "Hell," I swore under my breath, walking up to her and looking at my father. "What is the meaning of this?" I demanded.

"You are in no position to make inquiries," my father said nastily. I looked away from him, to the Commodore. All the world's an arse, it seems.

"Tell me, Miss Swann, is this not the same Mary Pearl who accompanied you to the restaurant today?" Norrington asked. My heart dropped violently, but I didn't want to appear flustered in the cold eyes of the Commodore. Still, things were looking quite dismal now that Mary had been discovered. And it was all my fault. She would never forgive me.

I raised my chin. "It is," I said.

"She is a maid…she failed to mention that," he snarled, glaring at her again. She started to cry again, and I put my arm protectively around her shoulders.

"And if she is?" I answered just as coldly.

"Miss Swann, I do not like being made a fool of," he said dangerously.

"Well then you'll just have to stay in bed all day, wont you?" I snapped.

"Christina, mind your tongue -" my father started to say.

"Norrington, you arrogant arse, so what if she's a maid? She is also my best friend - the kindest, gentlest and most temperate woman _you'll _ever have the luck to meet. If you were so taken with her while she was in fine gowns and jewels, why would any of that change just because she is in this coarse uniform?" I asked.

"Governor Swann, do you let all your woman servants go gallivanting about dressed as ladies?" the Commodore said nastily, a flush forming in his face. Ah, so I've struck a nerve.

"Most certainly not, Commodore, nor do I let my daughter's speak so to upstanding gentlemen such as yourself. Another week's punishment for you, daughter, and that is just the beginning," my father informed me. I was beyond anger now.

"She did nothing wrong, and neither did I! Father, I will not respect someone who cares only for what women wear and what their station is, rather than who they are!" I yelled.

"Mind that you lower your voice, Christina," my father snapped, standing up quickly. I bit my lip.

"She impersonated a person of a higher station and can be jailed for that," the Commodore said, looking harshly at Mary once again.

"It was my fault and my idea, she never would have done it if I hadn't suggested it. But she is my friend and I will not have her spend the rest of her days being looked down on as just a servant. She is better than that," I said.

"It is not for you to decide. If all the good people of Port Royal acted as Miss Pearl did, there would be chaos," Norrington said icily.

"You're just upset because she got to you, you liked her - the only woman you've liked since my sister actually did something smart and turned you down - and she's someone other than what you prefer. She's 'below your station' and you can't handle it because you're attracted to her. Well, I'll tell you something, Commodore, Mary deserves better than the likes of you."

Mary started crying again and I pulled out a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to her with shaking hands. I was so angry now that I feared I would leap across the table and strangle the Commodore if I wasn't careful. How they could sit here and insult Mary so, I'll never know.

"Christina, go to your room this instant, or your engagement to Mr. Turner will be called off, deed or no," my father said. My heart, which had been residing in my stomach throughout this whole confrontation, jumped into my throat.

"You wouldn't dare," I whispered. My father looked back at me stoically. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, brining Mary with me into the garden. I'm not very good with ultimatums.

"Christina, what's going to happen to me? James will never look at me again," Mary cried. I sat down next to her by the fountain, "Mary, that is the least of your problems right now. He's pompous and rigid, he wont budge, but its not like you're in love with him, is it?" I asked. She hiccoughed and said nothing.

"Oh, lord, Mary you aren't in love with him are you?" I asked, horrified. She cried some more. "Oh, dear," I said quietly.

"He spoke of marriage, did you know? All those times when you were w-with Mr. Turner. He took me to tea and gave me a rose once, even. He said he was looking to marry a fine woman, now that he had achieved being Commodore."

"That git. After a week and already he is speaking of marriage. That's a bit bold, I would have thought that he knew better than that," I said.

Mary cried. "Where are they going to send me? Your father wont want me to work here anymore, and jail! Christina, are they going to send me to jail?" she wept bitterly.

I hugged her. "Don't worry, Mary, I promise no harm will come to you, even if my father threatens to call off my engagement. I promise. They wont send you to jail, love, I'll take the blame for everything." I stood up and took the handkerchief from her, wiping at her tears as if I was her mother. Good lord.

"Stay here, Mary, there's something I have to give to Will. And if my father and the Commodore come looking for me…" I didn't know what to tell her to do. For the first time, I was without a plan. I sighed, "Don't worry, Mary. This is my fault andI'm so sorry that you had to suffer for it, buteverything will be fine. I'll make it so."

* * *

"Will! Will, where are you? There's something I have to show you!" I called, walking through the garden. I wasn't as excited as I had hoped to be when giving him this, but a lot was going on so I should be confused. I heard my sister's voice in the garden, she laughing, and my heart froze.

Well, you did tell her that she could speak with him when he came for tea, I thought. I bit my lip and followed her voice. I could hear Will speaking as well, but his words were too low for me to hear. I was behind some bushes and could vaguely make out their shape standing very close together. "Will?" I called quietly, stepping out from the bushes in time to see Elizabeth lean over and press her lips against his.


	11. Who Wouldn't Change A Raven?

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: I think someone asked me why Will and Mary and Christina are the only nice seeming people in this fic. Well, that's a good question, and here's the answer. It's because the story is being told from Christina's point of view. Obviously people who antagonize her or are a threat to her are not going to be portrayed in a fair light…if I had written this from Elizabeth's POV (which would be interesting), Christina would be portrayed as the bad one. One day I hope to write a fic from a third person point of view so I'll be able to develop the characters and make them more well rounded. But for now, this is all I'm brave enough to do…hope that clears things up.

Please forgive me if I spelled "claddaugh" wrong. I don't have photographic memory.

* * *

It was a whole mess of tongues and teeth and lips - my sister's lips, and Will's lips. Maybe that distracted me from the fact that it was Elizabeth who was pressing herself up against him, but when I looked away I was lucky enough to see his hands around her waist - her perfect waist, so tiny that both his hands nearly came into contact with each other around the circumference of her impossibly thin waist. I looked down, wrapping my arms around myself and feeling, not for the first time, my own width…How could I have had the audacity to believe he could have stayed with me, when my sister was still around and unmarried.

"Oh," I said softly, the deed to the blacksmith shop fluttering out of my hands and onto the grass beneath me. I felt something strange, like my heart had jumped inside my chest, and it hurt a lot. I felt my throat getting tight, but couldn't tear my eyes away. How long were they going to keep at it, anyway? It didn't seem like Will had ever kissed me like that.

And I was frozen, my eyes slowly widening, and stuck in that single moment of time when all my hopes for a beautiful wedding - which, truthfully, I hadn't thought that much about, considering I was still getting used to Will's and my new relationship - were dashed, and I wouldn't get a small house with him, or a few kids. Kids, I'd actually thought, somewhere along the line in some discreet moment, about kids. And now the daydream of me with a heavy belly - both a terrifying and thrilling prospect, especially the way in which women get with child, was gone. No children for Governor Swann's eldest daughter, the dark one, the one who looks like all the village girls, the one who was adopted. Richard was right; Will thought my sister was a goddess. It was like being fifteen all over again, except worse because at least when I was fifteen, Will and Elizabeth never touched. At least when I was fifteen, I was never promised a happy life with the man I loved, just to have it taken away so harshly right in front of my eyes, in the garden of my father's mansion; when I was rushing to give Will the deed to the shop so he'd have a place to work to support our future, and now non-existent, family.

The irony struck me speechless.

And to think a few short hours ago, I was happy because I thought I could flaunt my fiancé in front of Elizabeth, having finally had something better than her. Oh, no. And even sooner than that I had comforted her from her nightmares…funny how she so skillfully makes a fool of me. And they kept kissing

In actuality, it probably wasn't that long. Maybe only a few seconds. But it was a long enough for me to make up my mind. I turned around and tried to run, but my legs were stiff and shaking. A strangled sound escaped from my lips and I tried to force my legs to move, but they wouldn't listen. I was hoping that Will would shove her away, but if he did, I wouldn't be able to see it anyway. I was facing the other way, trying to sort out if what I had just saw was real, or just a horrible figment of my imagination. My worst nightmares come to realization - the thing that I knew would happen finally come to pass. Who wouldn't change a raven for a swan?

"Christina!" I heard Will finally gasp, and I heard Elizabeth make a little squeaking noise. He must have finally realized that it was the wrong sister he was kissing. That it wasn't his fiancé, that there was no excuse because, as it has been established, we are far from identical twins. That it was the girl he'd been dreaming of kissing ever since she spotted him in the water, and he was pulled up. Ever since she was the first thing he saw when he came to. Maybe his guilty conscience finally kicked in.

My head was spinning. I couldn't think of anything to do, or say. I felt his hand on my shoulder, pulling me to face him. His eyes were wide and desperate, his mouth was slightly open. I swallowed and looked to the floor. I hadn't even made it three feet away. I could see the deed quivering slightly, there wasn't enough wind to blow it away. Suddenly I wanted so badly for it to be blown away, so I wouldn't look as incredibly pathetic and naïve as I was.

"Oh, God, Christina," Will groaned, his hand on my arm burning me. I wanted him to let go, but I stayed still. Richard was right. Maybe I should marry Richard, and be safe in a loveless relationship, rubbing my husband's feet and laying down for him each night, spending the rest of my life bearing children and washing clothes, like a good, proper woman is supposed to do. Good, proper women don't marry for love. They marry for convenience. They marry the men their father tells them to, and that way they never get hurt. Because the only thing that is discussed is a dowry, and there is never any heartache involved. I should have let my father, as scatterbrained as he is, marry me off to some courtier, some old man who would die soon and leave me an old, spent woman who just needed to see her sons grown before she, too, died. My stomach turned at the thought.

Stop overreacting, I heard Mary's voice in my head. It was something that she would tell me, or maybe she would curse Will's name and braid my hair too tightly, so I could pretend to be crying from that rather than because of Will. Mary, who was in love with the Commodore, and he was being such an ass. I should be thinking about her, instead of my own damn problems. I should have stayed with her and comforted her, and been safe on the other side of the garden never knowing what had happened between my sister and my fiancé.

I looked up past Will shoulder, there was still a safe distance between us, and saw Elizabeth watching me. She blushed and looked down. "Now is really not the time to feign humility, Elizabeth. You certainly weren't so demure a few moments ago," I snapped. She walked away quickly. "That's it, Lizzie, run away and tell father what a bad, nasty sister I am. Maybe he will call of my engagement and you'll have a free run for it," I screamed, shoving Will hands off me.

"Christina, please," Will begged, grabbing my hand again.

"You don't have the right to talk to me, William. Not anymore. You don't have the right to touch me, or look at me or -"

He didn't seem to be listening. He grabbed my arms and pulled me dangerously close to him. I could feel his hard chest and I molded into him. I snarled so as not to breathe in and smell him, but I remembered laying on his bed earlier this week and then laying next to him on the floor of the blacksmith shop. I brought my hands up and wiped angrily at my eyes, trying to push away from him and at the same time trying to stop thinking about how it felt to wake up with his arm protectively over my waist. And how the air was so charged that if I hadn't left the shop in a hurry, God only knows where I'd be now. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have left in such a hurry.

"Let go of me, Will," I growled, finally dislodging myself. I backed up, feeling as if I might upchuck whatever I had eaten. I was still burning from how he held me so tightly, sick because I wanted him to hold me again as much as I wanted to smack him, as much as I wanted to scream and cry and have him kiss me the way he kissed Elizabeth. By the end of it, I was so disgusted with myself than I cried anyway, and he reached for me again.

"Don't," I hissed, wiping my nose on my sleeve. Mary would kill me.

I looked around, focusing on the shrubs, on the grass, on the clouds, on anything but my so-called fiancé. "I am so sorry, Christina, please believe me…I didn't plan for it…I don't have any feelings for Elizabeth, I swear," Will said shakily, rubbing his neck with the back of his hand and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Believe you?" I barked, a harsh laugh erupting from my lips. I didn't know where this cold, sardonic me came from. Maybe from years of being in Elizabeth's skinny shadow. Years of being "the other daughter", the cross between a pirate and whore. I felt cold as I finally looked at him, wishing that I had never seen him. My mind flashed back to how angry he was when Elizabeth was taken captive - I should have known then that no matter what he said it would be her whom he loved. Oh, wait, I did know then. And then he told me he loved me.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, William, but when one has no feelings for another individual, he doesn't shove his bloody tongue down her throat, does he?" Will said nothing, only looked down. At least he wasn't a coward enough to blame it on her, even though I would have believed him in less than a second if he told me it was her fault.

I turned around to leave when I heard him whisper, "I love you." I swore and stopped, not turning around but not leaving either. I looked around frantically again, wishing I was deaf.

"So you say," I said, bowing my head and feeling a tear slip from my eye. I turned around again, not bothering to hide how hurt I was.

"It was rather cruel of you to carry on with me like that, Will. I've been your best friend the whole time we've known each other, it was rather uncalled for. What, did you feel guilty or something, after I helped you rescue _her_? Well a simple thank you would have sufficed. But leading me to believe you truly loved me, that was just cruel."

"I didn't - "

"I wouldn't have begrudged you much if you had just accepted to marry her when you had the chance. But telling me you loved me, and then making me love you more and more every week, every time I saw you again, every time you kissed me? I could have been happy, Will! I could have waited for Jack to come back - he said he would take me away - and I could have scraped some happiness away from you and away from here,"

"I didn't want you away from me - "

"What did you think, hmm, William? That you could marry both of the Governor's daughters? We're not heathens anymore, you get one wife. You got one chance, and you chose me. Wrong choice, I see," I snapped.

"No, not that wrong choice! I want to marry you, I want you to be my wife and bear my children, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Christina, making you happy,"

"Well, looks like you got off to a great start," I said sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest and backing away as he tried to get close to me again. I had already laid down the foundation to build a wall around my heart, I was making bricks with my own blood and tears and broken fantasies of my happy life with Will.

"Do you see that little paper on the ground, Will? Do you know what that is?" Will looked, walked over to pick up the deed.

"It's the deed to the blacksmith shop. I got it for you. As an early wedding gift. You can keep it, even though now it seems there wont be a wedding after all. At least not for me," I said, trying to swallow the lump in my throat and failing miserably.

"You're going to call off everything just because I made a mistake?" Will demanded harshly.

"You made a lot of mistakes, Will, every time you kissed me. The first was lying to me, making me believe - You lied to me," I said, biting my lip to keep from crying anymore. I didn't want him to see me crying anymore than he already had. I was humiliated enough already.

"Christina," Will said, sounding so sad that I almost believed him. Something I would not be doing again. I closed my eyes.

"Good bye, William," I said, turning around and walking away.

When I had walked out of the garden, I was met by Elizabeth. I regarded her coldly, brushing past her. "Christina, wait," she said. I turned around, snarling.

"What do you want, Elizabeth? You got your way, again. I'm sorry it took so long this time, and I wish you didn't have to humiliate me so much to do it, but you got your way. I wish you a very happy marriage, but you must excuse me if I refuse to be your maid of honor," I snapped, running away and heading into the tea room where my father and the Commodore still stood. Mary stood there too, with wide eyes.

"Christina!" my father shouted, still obviously very cross with me. Unfortunately, I had already started to cry. I ran past without even looking at him or the Commodore, and I heard Mary run to follow me.

I ran into my room and fell upon my bed, fair sobbing at that point. "Oh, what happened to make you cry so?" Mary asked from my doorway, walking in and closing the door.

I cried and cried, my head in my hands. I cried so hard I thought I felt my chest constricting and I couldn't breathe. I cried for so long, I thought my eyes would run out of tears. I cried until I blacked out from lack of air, only coming to once Mary unlaced my corset. She helped me up and tucked me into bed, handing me a handkerchief and touching my face lightly. She looked as sad as I was, except she wasn't crying.

"Men have us in a bad spot, don't they?" she asked, smiling so valiantly it looked like her lips had weights attached to the corners, and she was struggling to keep them up. I didn't say anything, only felt hot tears as they slid down my neck.

"How could I have thought that he would be satisfied with me, Mary?" I asked, looking up at her. She didn't say anything. "I should have stayed with you. I was looking for him to give him the deed, it was supposed to be a wedding gift, and early one. And when I finally found him…he was with Elizabeth. And he was kissing her," I started to cry again, all my harsh words to him before seemed to me that they were said by another woman, because right now all I wanted was to find him and tell him I forgave him; and that he could kiss Elizabeth all he wanted, because I loved him and I would do anything to marry him. I hated how he made me so weak, such a wretched thing of so little pride.

"Oh, Christina," Mary said gently, her eyes filling with tears. She hugged me, and pulled away when somebody opened the door. "Linda, dear, go fetch us a cup of tea, will you? Be a love?" Mary asked. Linda, the young new maid, nodded and hurried off, closing the door behind her.

"Christina, it doesn't mean anything. Surely you wont call off the marriage just for that? Knowing Elizabeth it was probably her fault. Will loves you, you must be sure of that," Mary said, taking my hands in hers. I shook my head.

"Mary, you don't understand. He knew. He knew that I was always afraid that it was her he loved…if he hadn't known then I would have believed him, I would have given him another chance, but he knew! And I love him too much to make him unhappy, to guilt him into marrying me. No matter how many times he apologizes, or says he loves me…he kissed her like I'm sure he never kissed me…"

"Don't be silly."

"They are better suited for each other anyway. He loved her since he first saw her -"

"He was infatuated. He loves you, Christina, surely you must see that," Mary repeated, nodding at Linda as she gave us each a saucer with a delicate tea cup and a few biscuits. I took a tentative sip and placed it on my night table. I shook my head again.

"Mary, I just want to sleep. Would you mind?" I asked. She sighed and nodded, blowing out the candle by my bed and leaving the room, closing it behind her.

Tomorrow I would learn that Will had stayed and told my father what happened, and that Mary went storming downstairs to give him a piece of her mind, even with the Commodore around or perhaps not realizing that he was there. From my room I could hear her yelling at him, for my sake, but I was so heart sore and tired that I didn't make out the words. I could hear his low voice talking quickly, I could hear my father intervening, I could hear Mary shouting on the top of her lungs, and the Commodore adding some smart remark. I could hear her snap back with enough revulsion that could make me proud, if I were in a normal state of mind. I could hear Will say something, his voice sounding like he was defeated, and I heard the door slam as Richard led him out. I even heard Richard say a few words to Will, but all I could discern was the rumble of voices and not particular words. It wasn't long before the Commodore left as well, and my father decided to have a few words with my sister. I wasn't quite aware that tears were still falling from my eyes as Elizabeth's soft footsteps padded up to my room, and she knocked on my door. Father probably sent her up here to apologize.

She opened the door quietly. "Christina?" she whispered. I kept my raspy breathing as even as I possible could, but even someone as senseless as Elizabeth could tell that I was still awake. I kept my eyes closed and tried not to cry as I thought of her kissing Will, but the image kept replaying in my mind. Her pretty eyes closed, his closed as well, her arms around his neck, his hands on her waist that put mine to shame…the way they fit so perfectly together, like they were more made for each other than Will and I ever were.

Elizabeth closed the door a few moments later and walked away.

I sighed and touched the pearls that were still around my neck, wishing, not for the last time, that Jack had come back and taken me far away from here. I woke up in the middle of the night again, hearing Elizabeth crying to herself in her room. This time I would not be walking through the halls at night, being accosted by Richard, just to comfort the sister who had betrayed me so deeply. Or maybe she hadn't betrayed me, and she and Will couldn't even hope to keep their hands - and lips - off each other, seeing as they were as meant to be as any of the ancient lovers of lore. Helen and Paris. Cleopatra and Marc Antony. Romeo and Juliet, but with a happier ending in sight, of course. Hermia and Lysander, then. And maybe I was just a distraction, a fly caught in honey, a way for Will to know that it was Elizabeth he truly wanted. It wasn't fun playing the pawn.

Elizabeth cried for hours, it seemed, though she really had no reason to. Things worked out for her, as usual. Her life was charmed, someone was smiling down at her. Saving her from evil pirates and letting the love of her life love her back. I felt one tear slip from my eye; when it all boiled down, it was my own naivety that hurt me the most. How could I blame Will for something that couldn't be helped?

I knew then what I had to do. I just didn't want to acknowledge it. It frightened me, even though I knew that there was nothing I could do. If I saw them get married, it would be the end of me. If I had to stay in the same house, as big as it was, with her, I would go mad. I just wondered how on earth I would get in touch with Jack Sparrow.

I was asleep before I realized my plan was simple and fully formed.

* * *

Mary woke me up around one the next day. She helped me sit up, putting more pillows behind me, knowing that I didn't want to do anything that day but lay in bed. "Mr. Turner is here to see you, Christina, should I send him up?" she asked, handing me my tea. I shook my head, quietly sipping at the tasteless amber liquid. I put a hand to my eyes, my face was puffy and my nose was stuffed, I had a horrible headache.

"Do you plan on getting dressed today, or laying like a lump in bed all day?" Mary asked.

I sighed, "I'm feeling rather lumpish today, Mary," I answered, draining the rest of my tea and ignoring how it burned my throat, past my heart, and into my stomach. I thought fleetingly of how my skin burned when Will touched me, but pushed that thought away before I could start to cry again. Lord knows that I'd cried an ocean last night, drenching my pillow in tears, making my neck sticky.

"You can't just lay in bed. Go out into the garden…"

"Mary, the garden is the last place I want to be. Any news with Commodore Norrington?" I asked, changing the subject deliberately and taking a tentative bite of a biscuit. I wrinkled my nose and set it on the saucer next to my bed table.

"The Commodore left yesterday. Christina, I yelled at the man! What has gotten into me?" Mary said.

I smiled weakly, "I don't know, Mary, but personally I think it's a good thing. The insufferable man deserved to be yelled at."

"Will Turner is a fool if he wants Elizabeth over you. I think the man just made a mistake, you should give him another chance," Mary scolded.

I looked up, glaring, "I really do not wish to talk about him, Mary," I said harshly. She nodded. "Your father may have me sent away, for improper conduct not becoming of a maid," she said quietly.

I snorted, "Over my dead body." I looked up at my friend and smiled.

"I have an idea," I whispered. Mary looked wary.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I have no place here - Elizabeth and Will are the couple now, they always were. I was just a distraction of some sort, maybe Will thought he was being thankful for my help in rescuing her. But they'll be married, and I can't be around for it. And if my father sends you away, then I will have lost my last friend, my only friend. We should run away."

"_What?_"

"Jack Sparrow promised that he would come for me, but I told him not to. I plan to hold him to his word…my mother ran away, maybe that it my fate too. Maybe I'll find her," I added with a grin, putting little faith in those words. Mary bit her lip. "We'll be together, two female additions to the crew of the Black Pearl. At sea will be the only place I'm at home, now that everything fell apart here, and so quickly. Maybe if I join up with Jack, I'll be able to forget how an honest woman was almost made of me."

"Christina, you are the most honest woman I know. Too much so, perhaps. It would do you good to learn discretion - and this idea is preposterous, we can't become pirates," Mary said. I snorted.

"Come with me, Mary. You'll love it at sea, the freedom of it…there is nothing here for either of us," I said excitedly, ignoring her and sitting up a bit.

"I'll think about it, but you really should give Mr. Turner another chance…"

"He had his chance," I said, looking away. She nodded and stood, taking my saucer with her and leaving my room. I got up and walked over to the balcony, pulling my robe closed and watching the garden. I saw Will pacing around nervously, saw Mary walk up to him. She must have told him that I wasn't coming down. I watched him curse and look up, and I took a step back so as to be out of sight.

"CHRISTINA!" I heard him yell. I walked into my room and closed the doors to my balcony, not wanting to hear his apologies that he made in his guilt. I sat in front of my mirror and saw myself. My face was still red, my hair a tangled mess, some of it stuck to my neck.. I was pale, for once in my life, the black pearls and my dark hair making me look like a vampire. There were tear stains all across my face, and I found myself angry that I let Will hurt me so. I got up and walked away from the mirror, sick of seeing myself. I found myself hoping that Mary agreed to come with me, I didn't know if I was brave enough to leave on my own.

I walked over to the balcony again, and saw Will leaving.

I sat on my bed, stretching my legs out in front of me. I picked up a book from my nightstand, but couldn't concentrate enough to read. I looked up, hearing the doorknob turn, and in walked my father. Joy of joys.

"Good afternoon, Christina," he said, walking in and pulling a chair up, sitting opposite me. I nodded quietly.

"Father," I said. "I suppose you came here to berate me on my behavior, yesterday? Running out on Commodore Norrington, after having treated him so awfully. Well I'm not sorry," My father didn't look surprised. He sighed, folding his hands in his lap.

"As a matter of fact, Christina, I did not come here to berate you in any way at all. I wish you didn't think of me as such a demon instead of a father."

"Well, I wonder where that idea could have been nurtured and bloomed?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. My father got up and sat on the corner of my bed, pulling something out of my pocket and putting it in my palm. I picked it up and peered at it. It was a ring, a small silver ring, with a heart, two hands and a crown above the heart.

"It's a claddagh ring. Your mother had one identical to it, made for a woman of course. She wore it when I married her. The heart represents love, the hands, friendship, and the crown, loyalty. I'm afraid she took hers with her when she left. I had one made for me in exact likeness to it. It supposed to be exchanged between two people, but I'm afraid she was in love with someone prior to marrying me. She wasn't allowed to marry that lucky man who had your mother's love," my father said. I bit my lip, holding the ring up by its chain and studying it.

"I'm giving it to you, until you find someone who will exchange rings with you. William told me what happened last night, and I must confess that I am rather disappointed in the boy, but you mustn't hold it against him. It was an honest mistake."

"So it's a mistake when a man kisses a woman to whom he is not betrothed? There was nothing honest about it, Father!"

"Even so, Christina, he loves you. Don't be a fool and run away from that. Love is a hard thing to come by, and if you refuse it you may not ever experience it again."

"I doubt I've experienced it yet, Father. And if I have, then I've had quite enough," I said bitterly, fastening the chain around my neck.

My father touched my cheek gently, "I understand you're hurt, sweeting, and I'm very upset with your sister, too, make no mistake about that. If you want to take a break from seeing young Turner, I'll understand. But don't throw away love, it is as awful as letting love run away," he looked so sad, for a moment, as if he had contracted into himself. Obviously, he was talking not only about me but about himself, letting my mother run away.

"There was nothing you could have done, Father," I said softly, touching the ring around my neck. He looked up and kissed me on the forehead, getting up to leave.

"I know, sweeting, I know, but sometimes I doubt that," he said, walking out and closing my door gently.

I held the ring softly in my hand, thinking about what my father had told me. I studied the heart - love, I was confused about that. I watched the hands, for friendship. Will and I definitely had had friendship. Lastly I looked at the crown - loyalty. I dropped the ring onto my chest angrily and set my jaw, waiting until Mary came back in.


	12. Intentions

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

For the next few days all people seemed intent on doing was walking into my room and coughing, or shuffling their feet and murmuring something or another about Will Turner. It was making me want to take a leap from the balcony once or twice. And it wasn't just Mary, no. Somehow, she'd gotten Linda in on it too; even Elizabeth's maid, Eleanor, who had never had a reason to come into my room, peeked her head in through the door to inform me that Will had made a faithful romp up to the mansion every morning to talk to me. Faithful being the operative and sarcastic word.

And pretty soon all of the staff that my father had working for him would take time to see me throughout the day. Anita would walk in, making sure that she would serve me herself the special cake that she had baked. Eleanor offered to put a bath up for me - I hadn't bothered to get up from my bed for three days. I had stayed in my room and slept for three full days. By the fourth morning, however, I had gotten quite fed up with lying still all day, and reading - as much as I love the pastime - had begun to irritate me. I stood up and slipped into the bath that had been set hours before, grateful to slip under the cold water and wake up a bit. I bathed slowly, allowing myself to grow accustomed to the near frigid temperature, and looked around the mess that was my room.

The bed was awful, it probably smelled as if something had died there, no pun intended. I couldn't help but think that something did die there, and that thing was a faith in love. For three days I laid in bed and contemplated how easily I had been led astray by the words of a man I had been smitten with for years. And I had the nerve to think that I had been stronger than that. But as I looked at the rumpled covers, I wondered at how many tears had been shed in a short seventy-two hours, all for the name of one man. And all the years that I'd put up with him moaning on about Elizabeth and his devotion to her, it took just one single kiss for me to believe that all of that was just some shred of an infatuation of his. And it took witnessing a single kiss for me to realize that I had been as naïve as an eight year old who is promised a sweet if she completes her mending on time. I sighed and shook my head, no longer bawling at the thought of what had transpired in the garden three days past. I dunked under the water again and forced my mind to clear, unbelievably irritated with myself at having let it drift once again.

I got up and pulled on my shift after hastily drying off. I walked to the door and called for Mary, I knew she would be hovering about nearby, and sure enough she walked up from behind a statue in the hallway. "Is there something I can help you with, miss?" Mary asked, walking into my room. I didn't even bother to tell her not to call me miss. I nodded and held out my corset to her, lifting up my arms so she could lace me up. She did so, quickly, and said, "What, no complaint today about how tight I've laced them up?" she laughed nervously. I turned around and forced myself to smile.

"No, Mary, its fine, thank you," I said. She nodded and clasped her hands in front of her, wringing them anxiously. I pulled on a dark blue dress and allowed Mary to tie my hair up with ribbons. I took off the black pearls that had rarely left my neck and laid them down beside my comb on the dresser.

"So, you will be going out today, then, miss?" she asked hopefully, eyeing the pearls with disbelief. I took a deep breath.

"Yes, Mary, I do believe I will go out today - now, don't get your hopes up, it wont be to see Mr. Turner. But I think I am due for a breath of fresh air, and if I have to see this room for another moment I will scream," I said. Mary said nothing, but her anxious smile faltered. There was silence, a very uncommon thing between Mary and myself.

"Where will you be going then?" she asked. I shrugged and walked over to the balcony, paying careful attention to not looking down at the garden, which I had come to dislike very strongly. I looked up instead to the clear blue sky, and at the scenery which told of hills leading down to the lying portrait of a quiet town. The town was anything but quiet, especially during the day and perhaps even at night.

"Have a care, Mary, and have the bed stripped. It's become quite rank in here, I'm afraid," I said, drifting out of the room and down the stairs. I reached a hand up momentarily as I made my way down the last few steps and realized that I was still wearing the claddagh ring that my father had given me. I tucked it into my gown and made my way to the door.

"Where are you going?" I heard my sister's voice behind me. I froze and closed my eyes, willing myself not to shriek or cry or do something stupid like I had done for the past three days. I turned around and faced her, forcing myself not to lodge my nails down her throat or bolt in the other direction.

"Out," I said softly, meeting her eyes and forcing myself not to look away. Just because she had stolen Will from me - which, perhaps, may be the wrong term to use - did not mean that she stole my pride as well. I still have it somewhere, although it may not be entirely intact. Besides, if I could figure out a way to get in touch with Jack, I wouldn't be seeing much of Elizabeth anymore anyway.

"To see Will?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. The look on her face was an odd one, a mix between anger and regret, fear and resignation. I looked away, focusing instead on the floor, hearing his name from her lips was a hard blow indeed, and the fact that she was concerned if I was going to see him was a slap in the face with a hard metal object.

"No," I said quietly, not hating her but angry once again at myself. The term, "I told you so," was one my conscience liked to berate me with.

"Just out," I said, turning and coming face to face with Richard, who had become our new butler. He nodded at me and reached to open the door.

"I am sorry," Elizabeth called as I took a step forward. I turned around and looked at her quickly, before walking the rest of the way out.

I made my way down a path that led away from the town, a place I sorely did not need to go, and made my way instead higher up the hill, that would eventually lead down again to a beach. I walked past the place Will and I had had our picnic, and practically trotted on by, taking a detour and going instead to the stables - a place I hadn't been in months. Elizabeth and I had taken riding lessons, we'd taken nearly every lesson in every subject imaginable, and while Elizabeth feared the beasts almost as much as she loved them, I found solace in their warm large bodies. Of course, Elizabeth was a keen rider, and had only been unhorsed once, while I found time to fall off every horse I ever rode every time I rode him. Even while they were standing still.

I walked up to my favorite mount, a gray gelding named Hansel. The stable was not ours, directly, but all of the "important" people in Port Royal kept their horses here. My father had three of his own, one had belonged to my mother, a palomino name Titania; and one for each of his daughters. My sister's mare was named Gretel. We were so rich it was ridiculous, and my father had never come to the stable more than a handful of times in all the years we'd lived here. It seemed like a waste to me, but I knew the stable hands enjoyed it. I'd caught some of the younger boys taking out my father's horses for rides when I was younger, and had promised not to tell. Even for all that, they had kept themselves hidden unless Jerome had come up here. I used to sit in the rafters of the stables and watch them play, throwing hay at each other. I wished I could join them and not for lack of trying, but knew if I showed myself they would run off to their tasks. It occurred to me then that Will was the only person who didn't care whose daughter I was, or that he'd be in a lot of trouble if I was caught in the blacksmith's shop during one of our lessons; but he'd allowed me to be around him regardless. I sighed into Hansel's neck, and made my way into the stall with him, pulling out a comb to take the knots out of his mane. The stable was a place I'd never showed Will and therefore I was safe from any unwanted memories.

"Hey, boy," I nickered quietly to him, smiling as he turned his big head around to look at me with deep sea eyes. I smiled as he nudged me, always looking for something sweet. That's how he got his name. Since I hadn't originally planned to come to the stables, I had nothing to give him, and he turned away peevishly as I continued working the comb through his hair. "Haven't seen you in a long time, Hansel," I whispered, taking a brush and brushing his coat until it shined. He whinnied softly and walked forward, out of the stall. I laughed and grabbed his bridal, putting it on him before he could trot away unhindered. It was the first time I'd laughed in three days, and he seemed to know it, craning his neck to look at me again, and nip at a ribbon in my hair, pulling it free.

"What, you don't like me coifed?" I asked, braiding a small part of his mane and tying it with the ribbon. I grasped the bridal and led him out of the stall, not knowing where exactly we were going but walking beside the gelding as if letting him lead me. Maybe I was.

Hansel seemed to know where he wanted to go. He walked down a path, and then off it, and I held onto the bridal and walked beside him. And one point he just stopped and looked at me, and wouldn't move even if I walked ahead and tugged. So I walked up to him and scrambled up and rode without a saddle - a death wish if I'd ever made one. He started to trot and it was no easy business riding in a heavy dress without a saddle, so I hung on for dear life and prayed when I found myself slipping from side to side. Hansel had known me long enough to tell when I was falling, and he found it in himself not to trot too quickly as he took me to the edge of the hill, the highest point in Port Royal, and we looked out over the open sea.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Hansel?" I whispered, sliding off his back and stroking his neck. He whinnied and nodded impatiently, moving out of the way so I could see the familiar sails of the Black Pearl, just a few leagues off of the coast.

I had gotten back to the mansion as fast as I possibly could, meeting on of the stable boys on the way. "Please don't leave, I need you to do me a favor," I told him hurriedly, pulling a bracelet off my wrist and handing it to him. "Give Hansel as many sweets as he'd like, and some new hay," I said, ignoring his completely stupefied look at I led Hansel back to his stall and gave him an impromptu kiss on the velvety softness of his nose. I ran down the hill, almost slipping as I made my way swiftly back to the mansion. By now it was getting dark, something I'd hardly noticed at all, and the lights of the mansion were twinkling at me cozily. I hurried faster down the hill and ran up the stairs, bursting through the door to tell Mary the good news.

Only to be greeted by Will.

"Christina," he said, a bit surprised. I looked past his shoulder to a mirror and saw my disheveled hair and pale harried face, flushed with running. I blew the hair out of my eye and considered how I would make my way to the stairs.

"Hello, Will," I said quietly, meeting his eyes and then looking away, seeing in the mirror the desperate look of a caged bird. He walked toward me, and I took a step back.

"What brings you here, William? Does my father have another order for you?" I asked stiffly, crossing my arms over my chest defensively and pushing my chin up to look at him. He looked disappointed and I looked around. Elizabeth wasn't in sight.

"You know why I'm here," he said softly, looking at me and trying to pierce me with his dark eyes. I glared.

"Oh, right, well then let me just call Elizabeth and I'm sure she'll be on her way down," I said, pushing past him angrily. He grabbed my arm and turned me around - I really hate when he does that. Especially because a part of me loves when he does that. I clenched my teeth.

"You know damn well that's not why I'm here," he said coldly. I sighed and tried in vain to pull my arm away. Damn men.

"Why, then, hmm? Admiring the tapestries?" I asked, wriggling and finally getting myself free of his grip. I looked at his hands and swallowed, looking elsewhere very quickly. At the tapestries, perhaps.

"I'm here because of you, Christina. Mary told me that you haven't gotten up from bed in three days!" he said worriedly. I took another step back and rested my hand on the banister of the stairs.

"Did she now? Well, I'm afraid that's none of your business, nor was it hers. The truth is that I felt rather ill these past few days. Must have been something I ate," I said, taking one step up the stairs and trying to force myself to go faster. My eyes, however, did not want to stop looking at him. I stamped my foot impatiently and took another step up the stairs.

"It's awfully late, Will, I suggest you get back to the shop. You'll need your rest for whatever amount of orders you'll have to get through tomorrow -"

"Forget the orders, I don't give a damn about them! I want to talk to you, Christina, I came here every day for the past three days and Mary told me you were too ill to see me -"

"Well, she lied, I'm perfectly healthy, now goodnight."

"Then why wont you _talk to me?_" he demanded, rather frustrated at the moment. The cruel part of me wanted to laugh. The rest wanted to cry. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Selective memory, is that what you have, Will? Or do you not remember kissing my sister directly in front of me-"

"It was an accident, I didn't know you were there!" he said.

"Oh, that is not going to help you at all, Turner," I snapped, my eyes widening at the nerve he had. As if it would have been okay if I hadn't been there, and hadn't seen it. Well, I suppose it would all be okay if I hadn't been there and seen it. I would just be led along blindly again. I took another step back, remembering how I had seen the Black Pearl, and would just need to find someone to take me to it - or perhaps get there myself - and I could leave, just like my mother did.

"That's not what I meant…" Will was saying.

I sighed, "Then what did you mean, pray tell? And do be very careful, Will, with how you answer me."

"I love you," he said.

Damn.

"Good night, Will," I said, turning around and fleeing the rest of the way up the stairs.

"Where _were_ you all day, Christina?" Mary demanded as I pulled off my gown hastily and listened for the door slamming downstairs as Richard, who was the self proclaimed defender of my honor, now, it seemed, showed Will the door. I pulled on my robe and sat on the edge of my bed, too restless to lay down and too tired to walk around.

"Why did you let him in, Mary?" I asked. She glared at me, pulling angrily at the ribbons in my hair, her anxious behavior of the morning evidently forgotten as she pulled a comb through my tangled tresses with a vengeance.

"This time, I'll have you know, I did not let him in. He was at the door and Elizabeth answered it, she was about to leave I think, and he asked for you. And she told him that you weren't here, and he said that he would wait. She offered to let him come in, and he said no, it would be best if he waited outside for you to return. He is an odd one, isn't he?" she said, braiding my hair back. I winced and told her my scalp was bleeding.

"And then you're father came by and said to stop being ridiculous, come in for a cup of tea. Mr. Turner declined of course, but did come in. And then you barged in here with the devil on your heels, I presume; what _did_ he say to you?" I sighed and scratched at my head, the braid incredibly annoying.

"Nothing, he just asked me why I wouldn't see him for the past three days, and if I was feeling all right. Ha!" I snorted, scratching my scalp.

"And that's what made you come running in here like a madwoman?" she asked, opening my bed for me. I glared at her and stood up, walking over to the balcony again and tugging at the braid.

"Well?" she prodded.

"No, its not, alright, Mary? He…he said he loved me."

"Well, that's good then," Mary cried, taking me by the arm and pulling me back to the bed. I rolled my eyes at her and shrugged her arm off, standing up again.

"No, it's not. A lot of nerve he has, coming here every bloody morning after he kissed _her_. And then demanding from me the reason why I refuse to see him! As if it isn't obvious! As if I like being toyed with, as if I'm going to just leap back in his arms and marry him, while he still harbors feelings for her," I snapped, pacing around the room and making Mary red with aggravation.

"I think the both of you really love to be thick, now don't you?" Mary retorted, giving up on getting me into bed and hurrying about the room, picking up whatever had been left around and straightening up my dresser.

"What are you going on about now, Mary?" I moaned, laying down on top of all the blankets and crossing my arms over my chest. I watched her as she scurried here and there, fixing a whole lot of nothing and not fooling me for an instant with how occupied she was.

"And I don't really like the way you just dismissed me like that this morning, by the way. I know its not my place as your _maid_, but as your _friend_ I think a deserve a bit better than 'have a care to change the bloody sheets'!" she said, tossing my pearls to me rather harshly. I held them for a moment before placing them on my nightstand, fingering the claddagh ring around my neck.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. She walked over and shoved me over, laying down next to me the way she did when we were both little girls and she'd be tired from working all day. We used to spend hours reading at night, performing scenes from any of the plays I'd had, the books that I'd treasured, given to me by my mother. And all Elizabeth had gotten was mother's ruddy jewelry, a fat lot that does for her.

But anyway, I'd known Mary for the majority of my life, and in all that time I had never treated her as harshly as I did this morning. Thinking back, I felt quite awful about it. I'd treated her the way Elizabeth might treat one of her maids.

"It's forgotten," Mary said, raising herself on an elbow and taking the claddagh ring from my hand. "What's this?" she asked, meeting my eyes. I sighed and took the ring out of her open palm, peering at it closely.

"My father gave it to me, the night that…he said he'd gotten it made because my mother had one just like it."

"They exchanged rings?" Mary asked with bright eyes. She looked at the ring again, as if it was familiar to her.

"No," I said slowly, pursing my lips. "He said that she'd been wearing it the day they were married…he wanted one identical to it - I suppose to let everyone think that they'd exchanged them as wedding bands," I said, watching her interestedly.

Mary smiled, "But they didn't?" She had an odd look on her face.

"No," I answered, bewildered.

"I've seen these rings before…you're father told you they were claddagh, of course?" Mary asked. I nodded, still at a loss to what she was implying. She smiled impishly at me. "Perhaps you're father isn't as much of a dithering idiot as you seem to think he is," she said, happily providing no other tidbits of information after that enlightening sentence. She makes me very angry.

"Meaning?" I prompted, glaring at her.

"In Ireland, claddagh rings were exchanged among the poor folk who couldn't afford real wedding bands. It's the Irish wedding band, Christina," Mary explained. I dropped the ring onto my chest.

"My _father_ gave me a _wedding band?_" I gasped. I sat up quickly. "Are we _not_ seeing how completely unethical that is?" I demanded as Mary just stared at me. She hit me with a pillow.

"You certainly love being a fool," she teased. I sat down.

"Well, then, Mary, tell me how _you_ interpret the fact that my father gave me a wedding band," I snapped. She sighed, as if being in my presence drained her intellectually.

"He wants you to give it to Will, of course," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Let me get this straight. _My father _wants _me_ to propose to Will, who, mind you, he never really approved of in the first place," I told her, sitting up again. Mary nodded, sitting up with me.

"But that's…preposterous! Women don't _do_ that!" I argued. Mary laughed.

"Nor do they set sail with pirates, or duel with the Commodore, but it seems you've overlooked those two adventures in your life," Mary pointed out airily. I shot her a glare.

"First of all, I had no choice in either of the matters -"

"Liar," Mary cut in.

"Second of all, dueling the Commodore was hardly an adventure," I continued.

"That's why you lost then, is it?"

"Mary, I don't remember you being so sharp of wit!"

That one earned me a good smack. Before long, Mary and I were belting each other with pillows, something we haven't since turning thirteen, I suppose. But there was a loud rap on the door and my father stepped in.

"Good heavens, Christina, what is going on here?" my father said, standing in the doorway and looking around at the feather strewn room. I pulled my robe closed, still a bit irked that my father had given me a wedding ring, no matter what sense Mary made of it, and hopped unceremoniously off the bed.

"Mary and I got into a bit of an argument," I explained. My father glared at Mary, who flushed even more than she already was, and looked away.

"Is that so?" my father asked stiffly. I nodded, and clasped my hands in front of me, the very portrait of Elizabethan (and I am not talking about the monarch) faux-innocence. My father sighed. "Well, I'm happy that you seem to be feeling better, but really isn't proper for a girl of your age to be jumping on beds and wreaking goose down pillows!" he scolded. I bit my lip. Proper indeed.

"I would say that I expected better of Mary at least, but one never knows what she is up to," he said rather harshly. Mary looked quite ashamed. I glared.

"Father, it's quite late and seeing as how you are getting on in years, I'd advise you to take your rest now," I said tersely, walking up and closing the door. My father said a very colorful word and all I heard after that were his boots clicking down the hall.

"Mary, I'm terribly sorry about that," I said, putting an arm around her.

"He's still very angry with me, Christina. He doesn't care that you told him it was your idea! What if he sends me away?" Mary said miserably, putting her face in her pale, slender hands. I sighed, "Don't worry, Mary, he wont. I shall make sure he doesn't," I told her.

"You also said you'd make sure I didn't get into trouble, and now look at the mess I'm in," she pointed out, though not as harshly as one would have expected. Nonetheless, it stung. "Goodnight, miss," she murmured, walking out of my room quietly and closing the door. I held the ring around my neck again and decided it was time for me to go to sleep.

But, I found, that it was near impossible for me to find sleep, even though I was incredibly tired. The news that Mary had given me around the claddagh ring was rather disturbing - the fact that my father, the proper Governor of Port Royal, wanted me to propose to a man who I had just found kissing my sister was almost scandalous. Especially for my _father._ It was something I would expect more from the mother who I barely remember, because honestly, I do not remember much from when I was ten and before, but not from my father.

He mentioned her, though. How I shouldn't run away from love, or let it run away or whatever balderdash he had given me. Which really, I knew, was a wise thing to say. Because I couldn't get it out of my head, and I lit a new candle (the old one having burned low) and examined the ring in my palm.

It was very pretty. Bright silver, like I've never seen before, the intricate carving of the hands making even each nail and wrinkle visible, but not so much that it seemed overdone. The heart was untouched, shining even brighter than the hands, perhaps, but what drew one's attention - or at least my attention - the most was the crown. A complex crown that would not symbolize loyalty unless each crease, each tiny wave and indent was in its place. I felt my throat close as I stared at the crown. Loyalty, which really should be a rather simple attribute, was so often misguided. Not only by Will…but perhaps by my mother, who was not loyal to my father, but had run away. By Elizabeth, not loyal to her sister, her blood, but instead helpless to a whim of desire. To my father, not loyal to his promise of love to my mother, but forcing her into wigs and jewels and powder so she would seem to be the proper noble woman. Perhaps even me, not loyal to my father by doing as he wished, not loyal to my sister by leaving Will alone even though it was so plain to see that they fancied each other. I had insisted on befriending him, with the excuse of learning the art of swordplay to be near him. I wiped a tear away from my eyes and dropped the ring again, not willing to take it off but not wanting to wear it either. I looked to the balcony, the doors were closed. I remembered seeing the Pearl just leagues off the coast earlier today, and decided that I would do whatever I could to get there. I didn't want to stay in Port Royal anymore, in this place where I'd have to see Will and be confused and hurt. Or be stuck in the same house with Elizabeth everyday, or with my father who wanted to push me into marriage. Or Mary, who could be sent away. If I could, I'd bring Mary with me. I wanted to get away, not forever, because I could never really leave Port Royal, which had been the most comfortable home I'd ever had. I couldn't leave the town, or the mansion, or the stable, or even my father, as infuriating as he undoubtedly is. But I could go away, just for a little while.

Besides, it would be good to see Jack again.

And not have to wear a corset for a couple of days.

I crossed the room quickly and went to my closet, kneeling down in the dim light of a solitary candle and rooting around for the clothes that Jack had given me at Tortuga. Of course I knew that I would not be joining the crew of the Black Pearl tonight, but perhaps I could find some of the crew at a pub or what not and have my intentions known, before they sailed too far away. I put on my clothes quickly and picked up the sword that Will had given me, not having anything else. I tucked my hair into the back of my shirt, not wanting to draw too much attention to myself, but then again at a pub most are too drunk to notice.

I carried my boots in my hand, not wanting to make a racket walking down stairs. I did not want to leave via the garden, as foolish as that sounds. I left my room after blowing out the candle and prayed that I'd be able to get back before my father asked where I was in the morning. Or before Mary walked into my room and sounded the alarm that I'd run away.

As I walked down the hall, I froze when I heard voices coming from Elizabeth's room. There was light visible from the floor and I heard her talking to Eleanor, her maid.

"I didn't mean to, though! Or perhaps I did, but I never meant for her to find out!"

Elizabeth was saying. I clenched my teeth.

"Yes, Miss, but that doesn't make it right," Eleanor answered timidly.

"I know, but I never meant for her to see us…and I never expected her to react in such a way. Eleanor, she was in bed crying for three days! Three days! She's supposed to be the strong one, after all, she battled pirates! On purpose, I mean, because I did too, but I had no choice..."

"Yes, miss," Eleanor said.

"I was quite terrified when she cried for three days, Eleanor…I didn't know she would take it so harshly," Elizabeth confessed.

"Well, when the man one loves is found kissing another woman, its not preposterous for one to take it rather harshly," Eleanor said quietly. "Especially if they see it for themselves," she added. Elizabeth groaned.

"I know, and she looked so angry, I thought she would strangle me!"

"Can you really blame her?" Eleanor asked, surprising me.

"No, I suppose not. I know I wanted to strangle her a couple of times when Will was here with her…its not fair, Eleanor, he came to rescue _me_ just to end up proposing to her! Where is the logic in that?"

"Miss Elizabeth, there is no logic in love. And I think your sister is still very much in love with Mr. Turner, as he is with her," Eleanor said. I bit my lip so hard I nearly yelped.

"He was supposed to be in love with me. That's the way he was acting after we escaped from Barbossa for the first time…those awful pirates…" Elizabeth said with a shudder in her voice. Evidently, she was still very much afraid of the pirates. "It was rather cruel of him to pretend to love me," she continued, sounding like she would cry. Oddly, I found myself relating with her. It is cruel when someone pretends to be in love with you.

"Didn't you do the same to the Commodore?" Eleanor pointed out.

"I agreed to marry him. I didn't say I loved him. It was only to get Will back…Eleanor, I didn't kiss him to hurt my sister, even though that's what everyone thinks I did…I do love Will," she said, crying in earnest this time. I closed my eyes for a moment and walked away before I would have to hear anymore.


	13. Leaving Port Royal: Part One

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

When I was young, I idolized my mother. She was always the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, making legendary females such as Helen seem like a hag, and Cleopatra just a passing phase. My mother had eyes that were like honey, and yet there was a green in them, a wild green that defiantly refused to match any of the fabulous dresses my father bought for her. She was always up to something, and she was not much older than I am now when she left. Indeed, she had given birth to my sister and I when she was sixteen, and by the time she was twenty-six, she had left us forever.

But my mother was like no one else I'd known, nor will I ever know again, I suppose. She was the only person who treated me as someone just as beautiful as my sister. She was not impressed by how beige was such a perfect color for Elizabeth's skin tone, or how Elizabeth had had more suitors by the time she was twelve than I would in my entire lifetime. My mother, whose name was, ironically, Belinda, never seemed concerned with the physical. She would read poetry to us, she would force quills into my hand by the time I was five. She tried to get Elizabeth into reading, but Elizabeth was not fond of the pastime at all and much preferred to listen to my mother's stories. Not that I could blame her; my mother told wonderful stories and whenever I read now, I can still hear her voice in my head.

My mother was friends with all our maids, and they loved her. But there was something about my mother that always seemed detached, a part of her that neither my sister or I, or my father for that matter, would ever know. It was whispered by the maids that my mother was married off rather quickly, after having been discovered in a rather passionate affair with a man who was not her husband. My father, who had been infatuated by her beauty and her charm since he first saw her dressed in all her finery, completely miserable, had not cared for her past. Neither had he cared for her miserable mood, or perhaps he did care for it and thought if she were married, she would be happy at last. He had agreed to marry her, and, seeing as how he was the most respectable man my mother's parents could find for her, the deal was settled in a matter of weeks.

I never met my grandparents on my mother's side, although they were alive and kicking by the time my sister and I were born. My paternal grandparents had been long dead, but my mother's had shunned her, and had not even flickered an eye, I have heard, upon hearing of the birth of their grandchildren. I always thought that was a shame, because they would have loved Elizabeth to pieces, I'm sure.

When my mother was around, I was everything she told me about. I was a princess, if that was the story she had told us before we went to bed at night. Indeed, my mother was quite the storyteller, above all else. She was the Shahrazad of England, stretching out stories and adding new ones to every night until she left. From a princess I became a beggar, and then a warrior, and then a slave girl in a Prince's court. I was a lonely mermaid soon to follow, and then a nymph and then a seductive siren; all these before I'd reached the age of ten. My mother cared very little for propriety, filling my head with adventures that she'd leave untold until the next night, and then that she'd finally leave unfinished forever, taking them with her when she left. She would braid ribbons into my hair and tell me stories, and Elizabeth would have fallen asleep by then, sometimes. In the morning, she would beg me to fill her in on the rest of the story, and as hard as I would try my retellings could never come close to my mother's stories. Elizabeth quickly learned to fight to keep herself awake.

My mother sat with Elizabeth and her dolls, she would have tea parties and go riding with us, very often in the rain. It wasn't until we arrived at Port Royal that Elizabeth truly began to enjoy riding, as much as she feared the horses. The rain wasn't good for my delicate sister, who became ill very easily. It struck me as ironic that Elizabeth enjoyed riding two years after my mother had left, the warm safety that was my mother's aura did not seem to affect Elizabeth as much as it had me.

But now, I am thinking of my mother in the two years after she left. The day she left, it was as if everything that I was went with her. I was no longer a princess or a beggar or a mermaid, nymph, siren or warrior. I was just Swann's eldest daughter, the one whom suitors stayed away from, far too drawn by Elizabeth's golden radiance to notice the 'other girl'. They did not like the girl whose hair was a mess, whose skin was darker than the proverbial porcelain because powder washed of quite easily in the heat.

We left England when I was twelve, and went to a haven known as Port Royal, where still I was overlooked. I didn't mind, though, because it wasn't long until I found Will, and before that I'd had Mary. So long as I had just two friends, I would be alright. I didn't like any of Elizabeth's suitors, although she seemed to enjoy flitting around; resembling a hummingbird more than a swan. When my mother left, and I stopped being all of her stories, I became infatuated with pirates. I would spend hours in my father's new library, looking at maps and making notations in a diary filled with messy script of my mother's tales. I would close my eyes and put my finger on a spot on the map, imagining that that was where my mother was. And then I'd read all about that place, and picture my mother telling her stories to the island people, and she was their princess. She did not need the corsets and the silks and the jewels that my father heaped upon her, the island people would see her and know.

My mother had the sea in her blood, it seemed to me, because she seemed so out of place in court. She was beautiful, of course, but looked so very uncomfortable. Besides, she had left by sea, and although there was really no other way to leave, picturing her on a grand ship beside a handsome rogue for a Captain was far easier than watcher her in court. I wish I would say she passed it to me, her sea-legs. But on the crossing from England, I was quite ill in the beginning. When I had recovered somewhat, it took me another long while to gain my own sea-legs. The sailors would laugh at me, seeing me hobble about to the edge of the ship many a day, to lose my lunch, quite often when I hadn't even had any. For the first few weeks, I had stayed in the cabins and tried to pretend that the world wasn't rocking. Once I had learned to walk aboard a ship, I wanted to climb the terrifying heights of the main mast and sit among the sailors, who would often spit from high up and laugh raucously if it hit one of their fellow shipmates. My sister found this disgusting, and had yelled at me profusely when I had tried it. Then my father had given me a big speech about what it is to be a Governor's daughter, and what it most certainly is not.

By now I was out of the mansion and heading to a pub. I don't know where I was going to do when I got there, or who I was hoping to see, and I seemed to have lost myself in memories of how I had gotten here. Upon arriving at Port Royal, I had rebelled against being a proper lady, leaving that up to Elizabeth. I hadn't paid much attention when learning how to behave at a tea party, and what fork to use or what not, but those skills had been hammered into me somehow anyway. Instead, I met with Will and learned how to use a sword. I would spend hours with him, loving the way my limbs ached after, and how Will didn't seem to care that I was a girl when he began to teach me, and how he didn't say that the reason I'd won a bout was because he let me. Will was so different from anyone I'd known; with him, it seemed, I didn't have to be beautiful. .

It wasn't until we both hit puberty in earnest that I began to be self-conscience, if you can even call it that, and began to be away of the fact that I was not, it seemed, the type of girl Will could fall in love with. Which stung, because around the time I had realized that, I had begun to fall in love with him. At one point, I had shown up at the blacksmith shop with powder on, and Will had laughed himself silly. I'd lost our bout that day, and so could not even redeem myself by beating him mercilessly.

By the time I was fifteen life with Will was not so fun, because I longed for him to look at me the way he looked at Elizabeth, and it didn't seem that would ever happen. In fact I began to understand what they would say about my mother, and the reasons she was married off so quickly without a proper courtship. How anyone could hold in such feelings until marriage, a constant ache for words of love surprised me, especially since my relationship with Will had been platonic for most of my life. Indeed, it was a full five years before he realized that I, too, grew breasts and a good deal more than the twig I had for a sister. And since men are so concerned with that fact, you'd think he'd have realized a bit earlier? Of course not.

But that is besides the point. By the time I was seventeen I had grown accustomed to the fact that Will would not, and could not ever be in love with me. And I convinced myself that I didn't need a suitor anyway, and that it wasn't so odd that a woman should go about unmarried for her whole life. And Elizabeth wasn't married either, at seventeen, which was a bit odd…Father, the dear, would not force Elizabeth into a marriage that would not make her happy, although he was pushing for Norrington. Meanwhile, my father shoved me at whatever old man happened to be unlucky enough to spot me. And I would have been married, too, if I had not screamed at said suitor, or spilled hot tea in his lap purposefully. I told my father, quite loudly, that it was because I did not want to have children and so by scalding my poor suitor, I had hoped to be safe from the terror of childbirth. My father seemed unreasonably angry with me about that, but when I told Will, he laughed even as he winced…I told him that it seemed to me that men place too much pride in their equipment, but that was as far as the conversation went because poor Will turned quite red.

I smiled to myself as I entered the pub, and looked around. It wasn't quite safe for me to wander of in my day dreams, I know, but I couldn't help it. It felt as if by remembering the bits and pieces that made up my life, it would be easier to say good-bye to Port Royal, and I thought now about what it would be like to never come back. After all, if Mary decided to come with me, there would be no reason for me to return. Will and Elizabeth would get married and have a fantastic life together, and that was something I was certain would be very painful for me to watch. All my life I'd had to watch Elizabeth get the things I'd wanted, seeing her with Will might be the final straw that broke the camel's back. I looked from one drunken lout to the next, trying to find Jack or someone from the Pearl.

It wasn't long until I did, and felt a rush of relief and apprehension as my eyes came to rest on the slightly round form of Mr. Gibbs. He was sitting at a table by himself, eyeing the barmaids with a less than conservative look on his face, and sipping a rather large mug of ale. I quickly made my way over and sat down opposite him. It took a while for him to register my presence.

"What are yeh bloody staring at, boy?" he asked. The expectant smile slipped off my face quite quickly.

"Boy?" I asked lowly, staring at him until he looked me in the eye. He peered at me and cocked his head to the side.

"What, ye were expectin' me to call ye 'lady' now were you?" he asked, taking a swig of his ale. He sputtered as he peered at me from the corner of his eye, slamming the mug on the table and coughing. "What in the blazes? Miss Christina, what are ye doin' in a pub such as this? And dressed like that - rather unbecomin' of the Guvnor's daughter, in't?" he said loudly.

"Damnation, Gibbs, if I wanted everyone to know who I was I would have come in here wearing a bloody gown and jewels," I said, handing him a handkerchief to mop the ale off his face. He nodded at me quickly and set the now empty mug down and signaled for a barmaid to come around. She did, and draped herself over his lap, giving me an eyeful of not needed cleavage.

"What can a get for you, laddie?" She smiled widely and showed me a lovely display of rotting teeth. I smiled back weakly and grunted, "Nothing, ma'am," trying to dumb down my voice enough to pass off for a male.

"He'll be havin' some rum, luv, and I'll take another mug o' ale," Gibbs said, rolling his eyes at me.

"Hell, Gibbs, do I look that much like a man?" I muttered as the barmaid, who had taken the time to poke me flirtingly in the ribs and tell me her name was Ariel before she flounced off, left. Gibbs had given her a friendly slap in the behind, chuckling. I looked on with pure disgust.

"Mis- Chris, if ye don' wan' anyone to know who ye are, yeh've got to drink something. And to answer yer question, well, with yer hair all tucked in like that ye do pass off for a boy…eunuch, but a boy all the same," he said. I glared and grabbed the rum, determined not to drink a sip of the hell-sent beverage, remembering all too well what had happened last time. Gibbs held out his mug and clanked it against mine, downing half his ale in one chug. He seemed to become even more gruff in the time he'd spent at sea since I last saw him - either that, or he had had more to drink before I'd come in.

"So what is it yer here for, kid? Surely you and ol' Bootstrap's boy aren't havin' problems?" he asked. I glowered and mumbled, "That's exactly why I'm here, Gibbs," To my utter shock, he looked sympathetic.

"What did the git do now, love?" he asked, eliciting a handful of odd looks from the drunken sailors around him. I suppose it wasn't everyday they heard a man call another 'man' love. I snarled at them and they backed off, still peering at Gibbs oddly from time to time.

"Nothing," I said defiantly, not really willing to talk about it, just wanting to get to the point and ask if I could join the crew of the Black Pearl. "Mr. Gibbs, is there any room on the Pearl for two more?" I asked quietly.

"Blimey, I thought yeh said that you and William were having problems," he answered. I rolled my eyes.

"We are. I'm not asking for a spot from him…its for me and a friend of mine. We'd like to leave Port Royal, and it seems that I have a bit of luck because Jack showed up at exactly the right time." Gibbs grinned at me, and didn't say anything.

"Jack mentioned that we might be getting a few more sailors," he said. "Didn't think they'd be women, though. What, with Anamaria and all, the Pearl's set to sink for certain. It's -"

"Bad luck to bring a woman on board, I know. But can you risk it?" I interrupted.

"Sure, it's up to Jack o' course, but I'm sure he wont mind you on the ship. On one condition," Gibbs broke off. I glowered again. "Yer gonna have to tell him why you're so keen on becoming part of the crew."

"What does it matter?" I asked, not in a rush to go sharing my troubles with Jack. I didn't want sympathy, and it was embarrassing enough that my fiancé had left me for my sister. Took him long enough, I suppose.

"Well, he'll want to know. And seen as how I'm in charge of gettin' together the crew, ye'll be tellin' me as well," Gibbs said.

"If you must know, Will left me for my sister? Satisfied? Does it constitute me leaving Port Royal?" I said harshly. Gibbs looked abashed, and reach to pat me on the hand. The rowdy, fearless pirates who had given us odd looks before decided to get up and move to a different table.

"Poor lass," Gibbs said sympathetically, making me boil with rage.

"Yes, poor me. Look, I just need to know if I can join the crew or not. My friend Mary and I. We both need out of Port Royal for a good long time, as soon as possible."

Gibbs sighed. "I think ye should come to the ship and tell Jack about all this."

"But you said -"

"Oh, Jack'll let you on, o' course, but he'd be able to help ye."

"With _what_?" I demanded.

"Oh, don't tell me yer in tip top shape, with Will leaving you and all," Gibbs pressed. I never realized how truly annoying the man could be. I shrugged angrily.

"I'm fine," I said, which was quite possibly the biggest lie I'd told all week. I took a rather large gulp of rum and shuddered as I swallowed. Gibbs grinned.

"Sure ye are, love, drowning yer troubles is a great way to be alright. Just ask Jack," he said. I glared again, feeling my face get rather hot with the unexpected amount of alcohol.

"This is the first drink I've had since I was marooned on the beach with Jack and _her_," I said angrily. Gibbs took my mug away, placing it in front of him instead. Evidently, he could hold as much alcohol as Jack could - a thought that was rather unsettling. I sighed. "I want to leave soon. Tomorrow night if possible," I said quietly. Gibbs nodded, taking a swig of my rum. I frowned, but didn't say anything.

"If ye can get yerself here by tomorra' night, we'll go," he said, nodding discreetly at the door as if dismissing me. I nodded and stood up, heading out of the pub. I was prodded several times by Ariel on my way out.

It took a great deal more effort to get back into my room than getting out, not because it was any darker (in fact, it may have gotten lighter but I was not one to judge) but because even the little bit of rum that I'd had (alright, it was a rather large gulp) had impacted my senses. I walked with heavy feet up to my room, not caring if my father caught me, which luckily he didn't. It seemed to me that not only was the rum affecting me, but the realization that tomorrow I would be leaving Port Royal, this time on my own and not to save my sister. I was leaving for myself, and for Mary, because things had gotten worse for her as well.

The Commodore, I had been told, had come over for each of the days that I was 'ill'. He had seen Mary several times during the day, and she had come crying to me saying that he had given her the nastiest looks. I hadn't been much help to her, stuck in bed and crying my eyes out, but I was outraged deep down that he could be so awful to her when she hadn't even gone out planning on deceiving him. I told her that the reason he was being so terrible was because he was probably really very attracted to her, and that he couldn't stand the fact that she was something other than what she had looked liked - a maid instead of a respectable upper class lady. It didn't really seem to help, and I'd tried to cover up by saying that it was hard for a man such as Norrington to deal with the fact that he was attracted to someone beneath his station, in fact it must have been driving him mad. I told her that men like him cared mostly for what other's thought of him. She scolded me for that, telling me that Norrington was really a very honorable man and cared little for what other's thought of him so long as he upheld said honor. I asked her why she bothered to defend a man when he was being so awful to her, and she had responded by asking me why I still loved a man who had kissed my sister.

Nevermind the fact that she was still pushing for me to forgive Will. The girl contradicts herself a frightful lot when she talks to me, its very hard to keep track where she's going.

Anyway, I realized that Mary was not in my room seeing as how it was still early in the morning. I changed from my clothes into my night dress and put on soft slippers, so as to be able to walk without making such a racket. I made my why to the maids' chambers, where Mary was sleeping peacefully next to Anita. I crept over to Mary's side of the bed and poked her cautiously, not wanting to wake up Anita as well. "Mary," I hissed as she stirred. "Wake up, Mary!" I said, putting a hand over her mouth as she awoke with a start. "Hush," I said softly, pulling her out of bed and making my way back to my room with her in tow.

"I've come up with a plan!" I said triumphantly. She stared at me blearily, looking around and yawning.

"Christina, it's got to be at least four in the morning, what on earth are you doing up and so awake?" she asked. I smiled, sitting on the edge of my bed and pulling her down to sit across from me.

"Remember the plan I had, Mary? About us leaving Port Royal? Running away?" I asked, very excited now and pushing down the seeds of regret that were building up inside me. _There's nothing for you here anymore_, I told myself, trying to believe that I'd outgrown Port Royal and that I would be nothing but miserable here anyway. It wasn't hard to believe, seeing as how Will would soon be marrying Elizabeth.


	14. Leaving Port Royal: Part Two

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Mary swallowed, and twisted her hands around in her lap. She bit her lip, and looked as though she was fighting a very difficult inner battle. I stared at her for a long moment, and then looked away.

"I wont…I'll try not to be angry if you don't want to come. But I don't want to leave you behind, Mary, you've been my best friend for as long as I care to remember…but it is up to you." I said quietly. Mary said nothing, and she looked as though she was about to cry. I sighed.

"It's just…Port Royal has been my home, Christina. It's all I know…I'm so frightened to leave," she said, visibly trembling. I had forgotten how timid Mary could be. In fact, she hadn't been timid in a long time, and when I saw her those few scant times with the Commodore, she was positively boisterous. I felt a surge of anger towards him, because he really had a good affect on her, when he wasn't a complete arse.

"I quite understand," I said quietly, standing up and watching as the sky began to lighten. I watched the silent town, I watched the ocean beyond, and the ships and small boats docked in the bay. I watched the quiet roll of hills and a mountain beyond, almost eye level with me, given my location. I looked down into the garden, regarding it with a pressing sadness. Directly under my balcony was where Elizabeth and Will had been kissing, where it became clear to me that Port Royal could not serve as a home anymore. Not for a while.

"Will you come back?" Mary asked, walking over to me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the garden, remembering how it felt when Will kissed me. I bit my lip worriedly, and wondered if it would be such a bad thing if Elizabeth felt such happiness with him. She is, after all, my sister. I shouldn't begrudge her happiness, even if it was a happiness that was supposed to be mine. I felt my hands clench into fists on the marble balcony railing. Yes, I could begrudge her happiness. I couldn't help it.

"I honestly don't know, Mary," I said sadly, relaxing my grip on the railing and folding my hands gently on it instead. "I suppose, one day I must. But not for a long while…I'll have to forget about Will first…and what I almost -" I stopped quickly, walking away from the balcony and leaving the doors open to the slowly rising sun. The first light of the morning was always the strongest. I pulled out parchment and a quill, writing a letter to my father telling him why I had gone, and not to expect me back anytime soon, but not to worry either. I gritted my teeth as I wrote the last few lines:

_Please do not worry for me. I can take care of myself and if not, trust that Jack is a good man. Send Mr. Turner and Elizabeth my best wishes. _

I signed my name quickly and left Mary in the room, walking to my father's study and placing the letter on his desk - the first place he went everyday was his study, after all. I pulled a rose from a vase on one of the many shelves, and placed it on top of the letter; I was feeling rather sentimental. I walked back to my room and saw Mary still there, holding out my clothes. "You'll be leaving soon, I expect?" she asked with tears in her eyes. I nodded, stepping behind the screen to get changed. I moved without saying a word, holding my boots in my hand along with my sword. I pulled on a bandana and a hat. I was about to leave the room, but turned around to look once more. I picked up the necklace that Jack had given me, made of black pearls, and stuck a quill and a roll of parchment into my pocket, having somewhere that I wanted to go first before leaving.

"Good-bye, Mary," I said sadly, fighting down the urge to cry as I hugged her. She had no qualms about crying, and did so, quietly.

"Take care, Christina," she whispered. I nodded and made my way quietly down the stairs.

Now that I was indeed leaving the sun was rising quickly. It left me precious few shadows to take refuge in, and soon people would be up and about. I was leaving sooner than I'd expected, but the longer I stayed the harder it would be to leave. I had a feeling that Mr. Gibbs would still be in the pub, and if I got there in time I would catch him. If not, well, rowing a boat wasn't incredibly strenuous activity. The Pearl wasn't very far off shore.

I reached the atrium of the mansion, and stared at the spot where there should have been a candleholder - Will had broken it when he came in weeks ago to present my father with Commodore Norrington's blade. We'd never gotten it fixed. I sighed, remembering that then I had believed Will to be in love with Elizabeth. It was so much easier then, because I'd never had Will to myself. I could live with the quiet pain of seeing him love someone else - never knowing what it would be like have him say romantic, if awkward, words and kiss me…I looked away quickly, and had nearly made it to the door before I remembered another event.

_"You are far to spirited, I think, my lady. Someone has to tame you, it's not proper," he had said._

_"Oh, and I suppose you think you can 'tame me', Mr. Turner?" I asked._

Spirited, he had said, and I couldn't help thinking that it was a lie. He didn't know that he'd already tamed me, made part of me a weak female, a woman who cried frequently when she thought of him and did stupid things for his sake. Even now, he tamed me. I ran away to ensure his happiness. I removed myself from the picture. One might think that it was an act of rebellion, but it wasn't. I was just getting out of the way for him. Leaving Port Royal as if I could leave the love I felt for him behind.

I opened the door and stepped out into the twilight before dawn, and looked around hungrily as if seeing Port Royal for the last time. I wanted to remember it all, to take it with me when I was on the Pearl, when I didn't know where we'd be going next. I would take it with me until the Black Pearl became my home, until the gruff life of pirates wore me down and sanded my memory, making it disappear almost as if it were a wave upon a foot-printed shoreline. I would take the memory of my short time as a prospective Mrs. Turner with me like a sad blanket until I was strong enough to forget it, or to remember it wryly without bitterness or regret.

I walked past the pub, knowing where I was going for one last time.

"Wait!" I heard, and turned around, surprised. I saw Mary hurrying toward me, picking up her skirts awkwardly. I felt a smile break out upon my face, happier than I had been in days.

"I'm coming with you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as if she thought I'd try to persuade her otherwise. Not a chance in the world.

"Thank you, Mary," I said. She glared at me.

"I'm only doing it so you don't go off and succumb to an obscene desire for Jack Sparrow or what have you," she said tartly.

"Oh, believe me, Mary, you haven't seen Jack. Once you see him, you'll know that the desire is unavoidable," I goaded her. We walked in the direction of the smithy, chuckling quietly to ourselves.

Mary had decided to wait outside while I snuck in quietly - conveniently, Will had forgotten to lock the door. I prayed that he was still sleeping.

He was. I saw him, lying on his back on his bed, and I felt another stab of regret. I did not want to leave him. He lay shirtless, his hair a mess around him and his mouth slightly open. I pursed my lips and made my way over to the small table where all of his orders were scattered. I pulled out the parchment I'd hidden in my pocket, and the quill, grabbing an inkpot and unscrewing the cap as silently as I could. I dipped my quill into the ink and scratched out a single word. I placed my necklace on top of the paper and was about to leave when I heard the bed creak slightly and I stopped dead. I held my breath, waiting for Will's surprised cry, but it never came. I turned around to see that he'd shifted positions and was laying on his side now, facing me. I swallowed hard, and walked over to the bed, unable to stop myself.

I knelt down until I was about eye-level with him. I felt my throat get tight, and tried desperately not to cry. Watching him for a moment, I reached up a trembling hand to brush his unruly dark hair out of his face. "I love you," I whispered, fully aware of how close I was to being caught. I placed faith in the fact that Will was a relatively deep sleeper.

I brushed a finger over his eyebrows and cheek bones, wishing that I could stay but knowing that I couldn't. That it wouldn't be fair. Will deserved to be happy, even if I felt that Elizabeth didn't. I hoped that I'd be able to forget him one day, and forget how I had been so close to being with him forever. I had already forgiven him, for the most part. I scoffed at myself, he hadn't even given me a ring!

I leaned in and brushed a kiss over his lips, so light that even I barely felt it. I pulled away and stood up, and hand over my mouth. A tear slipped from my eye and landing silently on his closed eyelids. I backed up and walked quickly out of the shop, missing the quiet silver glint from the table where I'd left my parchment and necklace.

"Oh, Christina," Mary said sadly as I walked up to her. She was holding my sword and looking rather awkward, but I was glad as ever that she was with me.

"I'll be fine," I said shakily, wiping at my eyes as I led her back to the pub. She said nothing, and for that I was grateful

"We should find Mr. Gibbs here, and if not then we'll just row to the Pearl…its not far from shore," I said. "A lot of nerve, Jack has, to anchor so close," I mused to myself, my heart not particularly caring. It was still in the shop, with Will. I was beginning to rethink this flight. I was sure that if I went back and stood before Will, his conscience would force him to go through with our marriage. I quickly admonished myself. We were best friends before we were engaged, and I should be concerned only for his happiness. But it would be wonderful to just have him kiss me again…

I took Mary by the arm and led her into the pub. She was leered at by a good many of the men at the bar, and I glared at them, remembering that I was indeed dressed like a man and should act as much and one of them as possible. So I let my hand go to the hilt of my sword, and growled incoherently towards the scoundrels.

"Very good, Miss Christina," I heard a familiar voice say from the shadows. I turned around sharply to see Jack Sparrow nod faintly at me. I grabbed Mary and led her forcibly over, trying to imitate the ridiculous way that Will had occasionally dragged me about.

"Jack!" I said happily.

He rolled his eyes, "Keep yer damn voice down - there'll be no use in that _wonderful_ disguise of yer's, if ye go squawkin' about like a woman!" he said sharply. I smiled and sat down next to him.

"Now, what's this I hear? What's wrong with you and dear William?" he asked. I glanced at Mary. "Yeh don't fancy women, now do ye, Christina?" he yelped. Then, a rather wicked grin spread across his face. I scowled.

"No," I said stoutly. "Don't go getting your hopes up, Jack," I continued. "Mary is a very dear friend of mine - not that you've bothered asking about her," I scolded. Jack looked affronted.

"Well, yer right, damn ye!" he said, sweeping off his hat grandly as he stood up. He bowed before Mary, who looked a bit shocked, and took her hand. He brushed a reverent kiss across her knuckles. "M'lady," he said gruffly, looking up at her with twinkling dark eyes. Mary flushed and looked a bit pleased as Jack made to sit down again.

"Now, why is it yer runnin' away from such a fine young stallion like Will?" he asked, taking a swig from his ever-present flask of rum. I sighed, shrugging off how odd it seemed for Jack to call Will a 'stallion' - then again, that's just how Jack is…

"It's a bit of a long story," I said.

He nodded, "Yer right again. Let's head us over to the Pearl while there's still a small number of civilians up and about - and ye can tell me this long story as we prepare to shove off," he said, getting to his feet grandly and swaggering out of the pub.

I followed him, leading Mary who was staring at his back with wide eyes.

We arrived at the Pearl quickly, and Anamaria lead Mary below quickly. Poor Mary looked rather ill, even though the ship was anchored. "This one's gonna have a tough time, Princess," Anamaria said none too discreetly as she took Mary away. Once again, I was having second thoughts.

The few members of the crew who were awake were staring at me with avid fascination. I glared. "Get back to the bunks, ye dogs!" Jack yelled. "Damn scallywags don't give their Captain a moment's privacy," he grumbled to me.

"Good to know they're so fond of you," I quipped tiredly, wanting to go down to see how Mary was doing. I was really very worried about her.

"So now, before ye go check on yer pretty little friend, ye'll tell me why yer here, so anxious to be leaving the beautiful Port Royal," he said, leaning out and looking at the ocean. I sighed. The premature dawn didn't reach here, and it was still a bit dark. I leaned on my elbows and sighed, pulling off my hat and dangling my hands over the edge of the ship.

Jack didn't press.

"Will and I are no longer engaged," I said quietly, surprised that I wasn't crying. Jack glanced at me, and went back to staring at the sea, as if waiting for me to expand. "I found him in the garden, kissing Elizabeth," I continued, my voice flat. Still, Jack remained silent. I was a tad annoyed, wanting to hear what he had to say. I wanted him to tell me what Mary had said, that I should go back and talk to Will - to see that it wasn't his fault, and to forgive him and go on with the engagement and wedding planning, which hadn't even started yet, really.

"And I realized that as much as he denies it, he does love her. He always will…even if he says that its me he wants to marry…I'm not going to trap him.

"I'm leaving to give him another chance with her, because as long as I'm around he wont know what to do…he'll want to uphold his promise to me, and I wont let him…not if it means he'll marry me and be unhappy for the rest of his life!" I said defensively, as if Jack had insulted me with his lack of reassurance.

"I'm leaving because I love him," I added. "And…he deserves to be happy," I finished lamely, tiredly.

"I'll not have ye lying to me," Jack said abruptly. I looked at him, ruffled. "What?"

"Yer not leavin' out of the kindness of yer heart, Christina. Yer heart's broken and although yer sad right now, you'll soon be cursin' the day Will Turner was born. I've seen a woman scorned before - scorned a good few meself. And I won't have a member of this crew lying to me," he growled out. I raised my chin and glared at him.

"I'm not lying!" I snarled. "I just need to leave."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes_."

"Are ye sure ye want to leave home?" he asked. He didn't say Port Royal, or the mansion, so I wasn't sure he was referring to the island, or to Will himself.

_Of course he's referring to the island, you idiot_.

I nodded mutely. "I have to," I whispered. "I can't stay not if…not when there's nothing for me here," I said, turning away. Jack said nothing and we stood together in silence for a long while.

"Perhaps ye better get some sleep," Jack said.

It took awhile before we actually got going, and I had told Jack that I wanted to stay with Mary for the first few days. He nodded, but warned me that as soon as we get to Tortuga, I'm to be working like the rest of the crew.

Mary was having an awful time. The seas were actually quite calm, and she was up on deck leaning over and hurling her guts out during the three days that it took us to get to Tortuga…there was very little wind. I was a bit nervous, even though I was preoccupied with taking care of Mary, because I wanted to go away from Port Royal, and as far away as we possibly could go.

"Oh, I hate this bloody ship," Mary said passionately before the upper half of her disappeared over the edge of the ship. Anamaria looked at her quite disdainfully.

"A great landlubber ye've brought us, Princess," she sneered. Anamaria was usually very tart with anyone new. She seemed to have gotten more so in the time that we'd not seen each other. Jack was very sympathetic towards Mary, possibly because he thought she was another tally he could carve into his bed post, and the only thing that he complained about was that the side of the Pearl might never recover, salt water or no.

"Please love, I'm beseechin' you here…could ye please choose a different spot to up- chuck?" he asked her. Mary turned a deeper shade of green as the ship rocked slightly.

"Oh god," she moaned, before disappearing again.

I patted her back gently and led her down to the cabins when I was absolutely sure that she had nothing left in her that could come back up. I pulled up a pale of water and a rag and mopped her forehead. She was pale…paler than usual, it was a pasty, milky kind of pallor, and she was breaking out into a cold sweat.

"I don't know, Mary, you really look terrible…maybe its something worse than the usual seasickness," I said worriedly, offering her a dipper of water. She sipped at it cautiously, as if anything could set her off again. She took a deep breath.

"Christina, I've barely eaten anything since we got here, there is no way I could have scurvy or whatever it is those pirates are rank with."

"Now see here, Miss Mary, there is no scurvy on the Pearl," Jack said, swaggering his way down the stairs. I giggled at the shocked look on Mary's face.

"Yes, Captain," she said nervously, and what little color that had found its way into her face promptly left. Jack smiled.

"Relax," he said, sitting down on her bunk. Mary drew her legs up to her chest and sat with her arms folded around them, peering at him skeptically.

I hid a smile. "Where are we headed, Captain?" I asked. Jack would spend the better half of an hour down here, talking to us.

* * *

Later I would find out that I had left the blacksmith shop in just the nick of time…Will woke up only minutes later. He spent most of the morning working on the orders he'd started the night before, having a sword done and one more started before he stopped. Sweating, he pulled off his shirt and opened the windows, the tiny dark smithy was boiling. He was pressing a cool rag to his face when something caught his eye. It was the necklace I'd left. He walked over to where I'd left the parchment, and picked up the black pearl necklace. "Christina," he muttered anxiously, picking up the parchment that lay beneath it. He could read the one word that I'd written there, even though he wasn't a scholar.

_Always, _it read. Grabbing his shirt, Will took off for my father's mansion.

"She's gone!" he shouted as Richard opened the door. Poor Richard was nearly knocked off his feet, he'd tell me later, as Will shoved himself through the doorway and went searching for my father.

"Mr. Turner, do calm down, we know that she's gone," the Commodore said sharply, giving Will a withering look. Will glared back contemptuously. Elizabeth peered out from behind the Commodore timidly, offering him a shy, sad smile. His gaze, if possible, turned even harder as he looked at her, and she flinched. He did not look abashed.

"Mr. Turner, do you have any idea where my daughter could have gone?" my father asked, worriedly, wringing his hands and holding the short letter I'd given him.

"No, I don't know where she's gone, you don't think she'd actually tell me, do you? She went away because of me…this is my fault," Will would say, glaring angrily at anyone and everyone in the room. Elizabeth took a deep breath.

"She left me this letter, Mr. Turner, do you think she might have left a…message to you in it?" my father asked, pacing around the room. This was different from when Elizabeth was taken, then they'd had a lead. Will had help when Elizabeth was taken, I was there and so was Jack, and Jack knew precisely where to go. But me? I had left willingly. And I had not given them a clue as to where I was going, although they did know why.

"It's not your fault, Will," Elizabeth said quietly. He stared angrily at her.

"You're right," he said softly, not taking a step toward her but she backed away all the same. "Maybe its not…I had help in this, didn't I, Elizabeth? You could be to blame, too." he said menacingly.

"Now, Mr. Turner, that is _quite_ enough, Elizabeth has no fault in this. Christina chose to leave of her own accord. Foolish, yes, but not entirely unpredictable" the Commodore said dryly.

"Don't you talk about her that way!" Will roared. The Commodore regarded him coolly, my father with a mix of disdain and sympathy, and Elizabeth with fear.

"Well, what does her letter say?" Will asked after a moment. Elizabeth took it from my father, whose hands were shaking so much that he couldn't hold it still to read it.

_"Dear Father,_

_I am leaving Port Royal. There isn't much to say, really, but I'm sure I'll find a way to say it. Don't worry about me, I will be fine. I will be safe…Please don't try to find me. Trust that I am with good people, and am quite sure that no harm will come to me. By now you know that I can look after myself, and thanks to Mr. Turner I can defend myself as well. There is no reason for you to worry. Mary may be joining me as well. Port Royal as hurt us both, our pride, our hearts. We must leave. -_

Commodore Norrington shifted uncomfortably on his feet as Will clenched his teeth and his fists, staring down at the floor with the look of someone who feels guilty after committing a crime.

_"Please don't be upset, Father, even though I know my leaving is very much like my mother's own flight. This is not your fault…in fact, I think it may be mine. I hope you will remember me fondly…there is a lot I learned at Port Royal, but a lot I still must learn. Know always that I love you, a girl could not ask for a better father. _

_Father, don't be too terribly upset with Will, either. It is not his fault I am leaving, nor is it Elizabeth's, though at first it seemed that way to me. You still must welcome him as son-in-law, I think. I hope they will be very happy. -"_

Elizabeth paused and looked at Will. He was staring at a wall behind her, as if intent not to meet her eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and read on.

_"Please do not worry for me. I can take care of myself and if not, trust that Jack is a good man. Send Mr. Turner and Elizabeth my best wishes."_

Elizabeth was whispering by the time she had finished reading, her voice cracked at the end and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Will. A muscle in his jaw was working violently, and he looked very upset. He turned away from her, and Elizabeth let out a tiny cry. My father glanced at her, also very upset. Commodore Norrington was standing stonily, almost in a respectful silence for once. It would seem ironic to me, later, that perhaps the only time he would find respect for me was when I had left.

"What does she mean, she hopes you will be happy together? Turner, you did not break of your engagement, did you? I thought you a more honorable man than that!" my father said angrily, a righteous anger for the honor of his eldest daughter. Had I been there, I would have smiled sardonically.

"I did not break off the engagement," Will said, turning around to look Elizabeth straight in the eyes. "It would have been the last thing I would have done," he said. She cast her gaze to the floor as a few more tears slipped from her eyes. "I will go after her, of course," Will said.

My father nodded, still very displeased with him. "Of course you will. Even if it is just to bring her back." he said.

Will looked ashamed. "If I do not find her, then I shall not marry," he said. Elizabeth ran up the stairs with her hands over her face; quiet, stifled sobs coming from her room.

"When do you plan to set out?" the Commodore asked quietly. Will looked up, startled.

"Tonight, of course." he said.

"Could you wait until tomorrow morning?" Norrington seemed to request.

Will looked suspicious. "Why?" he asked. My father watched all this with a resigned expression.

"It is my fault that the maid left," Commodore Norrington said, looking awkward. "I feel I should also bring her back." My father nodded. Will sighed.

"I suppose," he said. "But it is just to get Christina - if she is with Sparrow -"

"_If _she is with Sparrow, it is my duty to bring him back to Port Royal for his hanging," the Commodore said severely. Will winced.

"And if she refuses to come, unless guaranteed Sparrow's safety?" he pressed.

Commodore Norrington smiled grimly. "She is but a woman, Mr. Turner, not an army. She can be taken back easily," he said. And with that, he turned and left the Governor's house, after bidding him a quiet good-night.

My father walked up to Will and stared him straight in the eyes. "If you do find her, and she consents to come back with you…and you do go through with the wedding…I expect you'll treat her better than this. You are not the only one whose woman ran away - don't be a fool, William," he said, looking as though he wanted to say something else entirely. Will nodded, and left the mansion, heading to the pub for a sorrowful drink before going back to the smithy to sleep.


	15. Will's Side of the Story

Disclaimer: This is the second time I'm posting this story, since it got removed from the site for reasons known to me...anyways, since I have a hunch that it MIGHT have been the "chat/script" format of my past disclaimers, I'm going to have to do away with all the fun disclaimer and be boring. I have to conform and say that I own nothing related to Pirates of The Caribbean and in fact the only things I do own fiction-wise are the characters that I come up with. bows

Summary: Christina and Will are now engaged. Yay!!! So then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after, right?…Not quite.

A/N: sigh School is almost over…just two days more now…(but by the time I post this chapter, school will probably have ended). My best friend is moving to Cali by the end of June or beginning of July, so I'm pretty much unhappy, and trying not to think about it…this chapter is dedicated to her, even though she doesn't read it anymore cuz its "too mushy and too much about stupid Will Turner" (her words, not mine - obviously). In fact, this whole story is dedicated to her because I am putting everything I can into it…I worked so hard on this story and its part of my self-prescribed therapy, so I don't go insane or something…and I'm going to need a lot of it, soon, to lose myself in Port Royal because its going to be very lonely, very soon here.

"'But a woman, not an army,'" Will slurred, mocking the Commodore's previous words as he sat alone in the pub, ignoring or perhaps not noticing the scandalous looks that the many barmaids were sending his way. He sat with his second rather large mug of rum in front of him, looking at it bleakly.

"Obviously, esteemed Nommodore Corrington does _not_ know Christina at all," he continued, looking into the rum as if it had rebuked him. A tall, large man sat in a corner watching Will. He was deciding whether or not he should go over…he probably should, because he didn't want the lad to be completely knackered before making his proposition heard. The man nodded and walked over, sitting rather abruptly in front of young Mr. Turner. Will looked up and blinked a few times.

"Gibbs?" he asked. Gibbs nodded, taking the mug of rum away from Will, who didn't seem to notice. I had hardly seen Will drunk, if ever, and would sorely begrudge my missing this time, in years to come. Will had consumed a large amount of rum in a short amount of time, and was piss drunk - and I'm sure I would have found it all quite amusing had I been there.

"Aye. 'Eard yer woman's run away from ye," Gibbs said bluntly. Will looked angry, and stood up unsteadily as if ready for a fight. "Say it a-agin'" he muttered. Gibbs sighed, "Sit down, yeh great yuppie. An awful lot ye've got to learn, if you can't even keep yer woman by yer side," Gibbs snorted. Will sat down, more because the room was spinning and he was feeling rather ill than because Gibbs told him to. "What do you want?" he asked. Gibbs grinned. "I've been sent here by yer old friend Sparrow…the girl's with 'im. I'm to take you to Tortuga and await their arrival." Gibbs said, straight to the point.

"Come again?" Will said. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Yer woman. With Sparrow. Tortuga." he said. Will nodded slowly, mulling this over in his mind. The pub seemed to swim before him…maybe his eyes were watery. "She left me, Gibbs," Will said sadly. Gibbs nodded and patted the young'n on the arm roughly, a manly gesture but comforting nonetheless. "Yeah, well you were a bit of an idiot, weren't yeh?" he asked. Will nodded.

"I don't deserve her, Gibbs…maybe I should just let her go,"

"No!" Gibbs said loudly.

"What?" Will asked, startled.

"Ye can't just _let her go_. Where's yer pride, man? Ye can't let a woman run out on ye…makes yeh somewhat of a cuckold, doesn't it?" he taunted.

"Does she have another man?" Will asked, his eyes flashing angrily. Cuckold, indeed! If there was another man, if I had left him for another, he'd run after me all the faster and bring me back kicking and screaming, he swore to himself. He would swear it on his late mother's grave. Ironic, I would later remark, that he'd rather bring me back from another man than bring me back because I'd run of my own free will. But such is the puny mind of males, who's pride is in there manhood, and they'll do whatever they must to protect both their pride and…the aforementioned…

"She does _not_ have another man, though yeh'd deserve it if she did. She told me, rather reluctantly mind ye, what went on between the two of yeh. Right wrong of you to claim her sister right in their garden - and under poor Miss Christina's balcony! Sorry old bloke aren't ye, William? Everyone expected better of yeh, even Jack." Gibbs said.

"I know…" Will moaned, his face in his hands.

"Ah, look at the poor mister, all alone here," said another voice, a sugary, shamelessly flirtatious voice that could only belong to one of the barmaids. And behold, enter Ariel, pressing herself into Will's back and running her hands along his chest. He pushed her off roughly, and she looked mildly affronted, but walked around to seat herself in Gibbs's lap. She glared at Will.

"Well, William," Gibbs said, ignoring Ariel except to play idly with the strings on her bodice. She seemed not to notice. Will looked a bit perturbed, but decided that he would ignore it if they were. He made a reach for his mug of rum, but Gibbs smacked his hands away distractedly.

"Yeh'll be comin' with me tonight, o' course. We have to get to Tortuga soon, but Christina'll be with the Cap'n for a while…he wants to show 'er the sights and such," Gibbs said. Will looked upset, "But I have to see her soon…I have to let her know…"

"Why don't ye tell me yer version of the story…I expect yeh jus' fell on her sister's lips, eh? Pull of the moon and all that?" he asked, rather sardonically. "I'm not gonna pretend that I've never had a mistress here or there…plenty a men have, Jack most of all, he'd tell yeh…but neither of us has ever been married, at least I haven't…don' know about Jack, tell ye the truth…but I can say for sure that we'd at least have married the poor mare aforehand…"

"She's not a horse, Gibbs," Will said nastily. It seemed to him that Gibbs was unusually talkative tonight.

"And neither of us expected it of ye, William, took old Jack off guard and there's precious little that does that, mind ye. Right upset he was when Christina told him why it was she was running, said she was awful hurt."

Will lowered his head guiltily.

"Reckon Jack's got a rather large bone to pick with you, very fond of Christina as he is. Says that she's the only woman of somewhat noble blood who wasn't a complete puff. Bloody good with a sword too, but I suppose that was yer handiwork."

"I din't mean to kiss 'Lizbeth, Gibbs…and I certainly din' mean for Christina ta' see," he said, slurring his words again.

"Jes' explain it to me, mate," Gibbs said sympathetically.

I would hear this version many times, how Elizabeth had walked up to Will in the garden and he'd greeted her cordially, asking her how she was and what not. And she'd walk up to him, getting a bit closer than was entirely proper, but he'd just think she was being friendly. Will knew how he hurt her when he chose me instead, and didn't want to say anything that would offend her.

"I miss you something awful, Will, we never talk anymore." Elizabeth said. Will raised his eyebrows, "But Elizabeth, we hardly spoke in the first place, even when I -"

"Even when you what, Will?" Elizabeth asked, peering up at him, now toe to toe, through her long lashes. He swallowed. "When I thought I was in love with you." Elizabeth frowned. _"Is that what my sister tells you, that you were never in love with me?" she demanded angrily, tears shining in her pretty eyes. Will seemed apprehensive._

"That's what I believe." he said quietly. She turned away, starting to cry. He reached out an put a hand gently on her shoulder, "I'm sorry Elizabeth," he said. She didn't turn around.

"I was in love with you, William, and when you came to rescue me I thought…you made me believe…that you loved me too. How could you do something so cruel, make me believe you loved me and then turn around to my sister?" she demanded. He turned her around gently. "I believed I loved you, Elizabeth, but I didn't…would you have me let you believe that all your life, even if it wasn't true?"

"Yes!" she cried.

"And doesn't your sister deserve a bit of happiness as well?" he asked.

"Not by taking mine," Elizabeth whimpered, pushing herself into his arms. He put his arms awkwardly around her, torn. Here was the woman he has believed himself to love for eight years, thin and shaking in his arms. He wished she'd stop crying. He couldn't think, her blond head nestled against his chest, her thin arms tight around his waist. "Will," she sighed. He pushed her away gently, thinking of the one he truly loved; thinking of me, though I wouldn't believe it for a long time. The spirited raven haired woman who was not as thin as her fragile sister, who was quick witted and unruly, who was strong and rebellious; and yet so tender and shy when he was with her. The woman who could be sardonic and sarcastic, but that made him love her all the more, even when she frustrated him within an inch of his patience. Elizabeth was brave when she had to be, quite impressive at times on the Pearl, when she had been captured. But her sister, Will thought, is brave all the time - to the point of it being a fault. And yet, he told himself, that was the woman he wanted to spend his life with, even as he stared into the perfect round eyes, shining with tears, of the porcelain doll, the Renaissance woman, the idyllic lady in front of him. He had promised to marry Christina, he reminded himself, wondering why he needed such reminders. He was sure of his love for me, and yet to have Elizabeth standing before him, in tears…

"And me? Do I have some claim to happiness?" he asked, thinking of me and our picnic together, or how many times he'd taught me the art of swordplay, remembering how we'd laughed even if I'd done horribly; or remember the first time I had actually beaten him. Remembering, guiltily now, how I had been so unconvinced of his love.

Elizabeth bent her head, "I could make you happy," she whispered. She felt so strange, she had been given everything that I had wanted all her life. She had had so many suitors all lined up, all the finest dresses and jewelry, Father doting on her every chance he got; and yet the one thing that she had wanted most in the world, to be Will Turner's wife…that was denied to her. It made her unreasonably angry. Vengeful, even. But it wasn't revenge, if she loved him. It was righteous, if she loved him. And she did, didn't she? Of course she did. He was the finest man in Port Royal, she was the one who had spotted him in the sea eight years ago, not me. Surely that must mean something! And Will, he had gone after her not quite so long ago, to save her. Perhaps he thought he owed me something, and that was why he pledged to marry me. That must be why…

Will smiled, and she took this to be a good sign. She started to laugh. He did too, quietly, unsure - and quite taken by surprise as she leaned over and pressed her lips to his.

"Just like that, then, eh? She professes her love to you…and you say yer with her sister…and then she kissed ye?" Gibbs asked. Will nodded slowly, not meeting his eyes. Gibbs didn't say anything for a long while.

"Can we please go to Tortuga now?" Will asked quietly, still not raising his eyes.

"Aye," Gibbs said, standing up and sending Ariel harrumphing on her way. "There's just one thing I have to ask ye, or there's no point in going…this girl, how far are you willing to go to bring her back?" he asked.

"I'd di-" Will broke off, de ja vu washing over him almost as much as the alcohol in the rum. "Anything. I'd do anything for her…" he said, not wanting to profess the same words he'd used for Elizabeth's rescue. _Christina is different_, Will thought. Gibbs smiled. "Aye," he said softly, and he led the way out of the pub.

"Gibbs? Eh…Gibbs was a bit besotted with that barmaid, Arianna I think her name was. He chose to stay in Port Royal for a bit, and he'll be meeting us at Tortuga, whenever I decide that its time to head there," Jack said, looking flustered but covering smoothly, a few more ridiculous hand motions thrown in than usual. I raised an eyebrow.

"I take it you haven't _seen_ Ariel, then?" I asked. Jack looked insulted. "Is that 'er name then? And if I haven' seen the wench?" he asked. "Half her teeth are rotted out of her skull!" I said. Jack grinned, "So are mine, luv, but that doesn't make me any less of a catch now does it?" he asked. I said nothing, pursing my lips tightly. Jack waggled his eyebrows at me before swaggering up deck.

"Take a rest, luv, ye've had a hard couple of days," he said. I laid down beside Mary, holding a wet cloth to her head every now and then. She was asleep again, and felt a bit warm. I prayed that she didn't have a fever, but whenever she was awake she would insist that she was fine. Right before she hurled her guts up over the side of the ship, mind you. It was the fifth consecutive day of this, and even Anamaria had started to be sympathetic.

Five whole days I'd been away from Port Royal, and I wondered frequently about what everyone was doing. I wondered if my father was blaming himself as he usually did when things went wrong. He was silent and somber for months after my mother had left. I wondered how happy Elizabeth was, and if Will was still feeling guilty - guilty about my leaving, and guilty about his happiness with Elizabeth, which is what I was quite sure he was feeling. I felt myself get very angry when a thought of that, an anger that only covered up my rejected sadness. I wished…ah, but what I wished didn't seem to matter anymore, and nothing would come from dwelling on wishes.

But dwelling was all I ever seemed to do, even when Jack had called me up on deck to help with the sails or what not. I was slowly learning how to become part of a crew, but most of the time I was below, caring for Mary. Jack's crew didn't bother me about Will, he had forbidden it and they didn't seem to care much anyway. Anamaria looked at me sadly for the first few days, muttering very angrily about how men were dogs, and it helped a bit but not much.

Mary slept for most of the time, so I talked very little, except to Jack. Jack was a very good listener, in fact he rarely said anything. He listened about Will, looking thoughtful, and handed me his flask of rum. I broke the vow I'd made on the island that Barbossa had marooned Jack, Elizabeth and myself on so many weeks, perhaps months ago now…and I would drink rum slowly with the rest of them. Never enough to get piss drunk, but enough to wallow in my misery, which was perhaps worse. Even Jack caught on in the end, and I was cut off from the alcohol supply for a bit, until I was better on my feet.

"Jack, where are we going?" I had asked yesterday. He smiled indulgently at me. "Tha's the beauty of the Pearl, Christina. Nowhere…we don't have to go nowhere. Freedom, that's what this ship is. We'll sail around a bit, 'til yer more comfortable and Mary stop heaving her stomach over the side of my ship…then we'll head to Tortuga for a pick-me-up of sorts…and then who knows where else she'll take us?" he trailed off, referring to his pride and joy, the Black Pearl. I smiled, wishing that I could place all my happiness in something that couldn't betray me, like a ship. I wished, not for the last time, that I had been born a pirate. Like Anamaria, who seemed so very untouched by men. In fact, she scoffed at them.

"Scalawags, the lot of them. Only good for breeding purposes - a bit of dancing among the blankets is always a good thing, ye'll learn that soon enough, Princess," she said airily one evening, leering right back at the crew member who had stopped to grin at her. I felt myself blush, quite sure that I would never 'dance among the blankets' for sport.

It was strange, I'll admit, waking up to a rocking ship every morning, sleeping next to Mary because there were not many extra bunks and I'd rather not sleep with any of the crew. They did not accost Anamaria because they knew she was likely to castrate them, but neither Mary nor I has such reputations. I was well on my way to gaining one, however, snarling right viciously at one crew member who saw fit to grab me from behind as I stepped down from the rigging. I had elbowed him rather harshly in the gut, and there were chortles all around as he doubled over in pain…evidently my aim had been lower than expected. Jack grinned at me, and I shrugged back sheepishly. I couldn't help it if I didn't want a man to touch me again - ever, it seemed.

I tried to stop myself but I couldn't help but wonder if somewhere along this adventure I'd meet my mother, or at least come across her. I'd voiced this to Mary, not even telling Jack that my mother had run away with pirates because lord knows he'd probably want to find her or something - or, a bit worse, that he'd been her lover or something…as font as I was of Jack, I did not want him to have met my mother and had a roll in the hay somewhere along the way. Jack was notorious for being a great lover of women, many, many women, evidently.

Mary, containing herself for the time being, sighed. "Christina, we came here to get away from your past, not to go searching for it," she said. I nodded, hugging my knees to my chest and hiding my face. We were below and it was a stormy night, I was surprised that Mary wasn't doubled over again. We sat in silence, watching the solitary candle sway to and fro, probably not the wisest thing, as there were many flammable objects in the cabins.

The cabins had a musty, musky smell of far too many people in far too small a place. But for now, I realized, this was home. And I preferred it, even, over Port Royal. There was something tight-knit about this ship, and I was under the impression that grumble as they might, none of these sailors would be mutinous. They were, as I was, genuinely fond of their Captain. For all his eccentric ways and swaggering demeanor, he was a good Captain, never working the crew harder than was necessary. Among this group of men, and women, now, there was a general love of the sea, of the freedom that Jack knew the Pearl mentioned.

Even Mary was happier here, the times when she wasn't violently ill. Her slight fever had broken, and she was taking a liking to Jack. She still hadn't strayed out of the cabins yet, but when he came to visit she spoke to him, more animatedly than I'd seen her in a long while. In fact, the only other person she'd been this comfortable with, besides me, was probably Commodore Norrington.

The goings-on between the Commodore and my dear friend Mary was another thing that had me puzzled. I thought Mary a better judge of character, the fact that she could like a sniveling rat perplexed me. But she insisted that he was noble and good, and ever so nice to her when he had thought she was Mary Pearl, an upper class lady of Port Royal. I shrugged as she'd insisted this - perhaps there was a side of the Commodore he didn't show me, or that I didn't care to see.

I had stopped talking about Will, the very mention of his name made me feel, above all else now, extremely tired. I spent the calm mornings in the crow's nest when Jack didn't ask me to help steer or what not. I often just stared up at the sky, it had a strange affect on me; to be so high up, straight between the ocean and the clouds. I would spend hours sitting up there, thinking of nothing at all, if I was lucky. However, I was very often unlucky, and often the only think I could think about was the one thing I didn't want to have anything to do with anymore.

And yet I couldn't help it, it was as if I was a glutton for punishment, as if I reveled in heart ache. I would think of Port Royal, seeing not much harm in such a topic. But Port Royal would lead to the mansion, which would lead to my room, which would lead to the balcony over the garden…and then I would think of Elizabeth and Will…I suppose it is a good sign that I hardly cry anymore, at least. I think, dwell, brood for hours, and sigh. It is only when Anamaria climbs up the rigging to tug hard on my heart and bark at me to snap out of it, relying a message that Jack needs me for something, that I come down from the crows nest.

We'd been out sailing for a week and a half, and I'd been starting to smile more, laugh more. Mary had ventured out of the cabins on our two week mark, and had climbed a good few feet up the rigging three days later, stopping when she realized that she was still in her dress. We'd yet to go to Tortuga, where Jack promised that he would buy more suitable clothes for Mary. He said that in about another four days we'd be stopping by Tortuga for a mysterious 'pick-me-up', and I had a feeling it would be a new supply of the Caribbean's best rum, because we were running low. Jack, however, refused to tell me.

The hardest part about being on the ship, I think, was the diet. Unlike what Elizabeth had described, there was no stuffed pig and bread, no apples, and no wine. There was dried and salted meats, which left me parched, and hardtack. There was rum, which I was not allowed to go near, and ale. There was precious little fresh water, so Mary and I never bathed. It is amazing how humbling it is to go about without bathing for two and half weeks.

My hair had once again been diminished to a nest, closely resembling Jack's dreadlocks. I didn't bother trying to brush it, but Mary did, breaking the only comb that she'd brought with her from Port Royal. She eyed my hair nastily, as if it was her new nemesis. Oddly enough, her hair had stayed at it was, which might have been because she had tied it into such a tight braid that it was now stuck like that forever.

But now, it was a rough night, the ship was rolling this way and that and I could barely here what was going on above, the wailing of the wind was so loud. It wasn't as bad as it had been when we'd gone to rescue Elizabeth, but Mary, who had never experienced a storm at sea, was petrified. If I didn't keep her distracted, she was likely to faint. Unfortunately, I was running out of ideas.

There was a low rumble of thunder, and Mary bolted upright. "Its not very safe, is it, to be at sea when there's thunder and lightning?" she asked in a very high pitched voice. I grimaced, not thinking about what I was saying. "Mary, its not very safe to be at sea under the best of circumstances."

Mary threw her legs over the edge of the bed, and I scrambled up after her. "But the Pearl is the safest ship at sea, dear, we'll be fine!" I said hastily. The Pearl, seeming to love irony almost as much as I was beginning to detest it, groaned eerily. Mary trembled, "That is _not_ a good sound, is it?" she whimpered. I sighed, putting a hand on her arm and trying to drag her back down to sit on the bed.

"We'll be fine, Jack's been sailing for longer than we've been alive," I said, and then was rather shocked because Jack never seemed quite old. He must be at least thirty-five! If I was twenty, well past the fifteen years of age when women reached adulthood, and he was friend's with Will's father…well then he is at least thirty-five indeed! I shook my head, Mary's frightened squawks as we stumbled around bringing me back to present time.

"Mary, sit down, try to relax…everything is all right, dear, you really just have to let it pass…in the morning it'll be as if it never happened,"

Many things would happen at once, in the next instant. There was a phenomenally loud clap of thunder, and Mary screamed, wrenching her arm out of my grip and disappearing up the stairs to the deck. I jumped up to follow her, but the ship gave a terrific lurch and I was thrown to the floor, tasting blood on my lip. Then the wind gave a mighty shriek, as if the devil himself were flying free tonight, and a heard a sound unlike any other I'd heard upon a ship - a whine as if a huge cloth were being pulled, and then a tear. I got up shakily and was thrown to the floor again, hitting my head this time and watching the candle fade slowly into darkness.

A/N: This chapter is shorter than usual, but I couldn't help it…I wanna stretch this story out, and I can't give ya'll too much in a single chapter! School's out, (hooray!) and I'm still in shock that my freshman year of high school is over (tear!), but hopefully I'll get a chance to update more frequently now…hope you enjoyed this chapter! Review, please, lovies!


	16. At the End of the World

Disclaimer: This is the second time I'm posting this story, since it got removed from the site for reasons known to me...anyways, since I have a hunch that it MIGHT have been the "chat/script" format of my past disclaimers, I'm going to have to do away with all the fun disclaimer and be boring. I have to conform and say that I own nothing related to Pirates of The Caribbean and in fact the only things I do own fiction-wise are the characters that I come up with. bows

Summary: Christina and Will are now engaged. Yay!!! So then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after, right?…Not quite.

A/N: My softball team LOST today! It's the play offs, and this is when we decide to suck. The irony of it all strikes me dumb, every time. I have no idea what storms at sea look like, except from seeing _The Perfect Storm _and _White Squall_, both of which made me cry and both of which I've seen a LONG time ago. So, I'm gonna go on what I remember, and whatever my imagination decides…besides, I have a free reign here; after all, I'm writing in the genre where in the prequel, men's skin melted into rotting flesh and bone under the influence of the moon…

à I almost wanted to call this "The Chapter of the Dashes" because if you notice, there are quite a few "-"'s in it…really! More than usual, I think. But I decided that the joke might be lost on, well, _everyone _who's not quite as insane as I am.

Will and Mr. Gibbs were stumbling drunkenly out of one of Port Royal's only pubs, not having left Port Royal itself yet. Mr. Gibbs was all for heading over to Tortuga at the very instant, but Will was rather intent on going back to the blacksmith shop.

"Jus' have ta' get somethin', Gibbs," Will said with difficulty, leaning on his partner-in-crime. Gibbs rolled his eyes, and led Will over to the shop. Gibbs would tell me later that it would be hard to tell who was having more difficulty walking. "Turner's no pixie, lass. Though, I'm fair certain yeh'd know that by now," he would add suggestively. The perverse minds of pirates would never cease to amaze me, of that I was sure.

Will stumbled into the smithy and rooted around on the desk where I'd left the piece of parchment and the pearls Jack had given me. He wrapped something tenderly in a cloth and slipped it into his pocket. He also picked up the parchment I'd given him and put it in his pocket as well. Since he was aiming to sail out and find me, it must have slipped his mind that it was entirely unlikely for the parchment to stay legible on his journey out.

"All right, let's go," he said, stumbling out the door. Gibbs rolled his eyes and picked up a few choice swords that were hanging around the shop, quickly selecting which one he thought would be the best for Will and mumbling about dingbats.

"Never again will I let ye have even a sip of rum," he muttered, following Will out the door and into the calm of the night.

I awoke in the belly of the Pearl with thunder clapping obnoxiously in my ear. I lifted my face off the floor and realized that I had not been unconscious for an incredibly long time, because the candle was still lit and swinging around, miraculously. In fact, the only way it was faded was because I had gradually stepped out of tune with the world. I swore violently when it slowly dawned on me the events the took place before I decided to greet the hard wood of the Pearl head on.

"Mary!" I muttered, picking myself up and making my way cautiously about the ship. The world was lopsided and shaky - well, of course it was, I was on a ship! I shook my head, which turned out to be a mistake because I got a splitting headache, or came to _notice_ the splitting head ache that was already…splitting my head...

I made my way as quickly as I could up the stairs to the deck to see the crew running about in every direction, trying to bring the sails in. "Jack!" I shouted. Jack was one among the crew now, and it was hard to find him because he had thrown himself into work as much as any of them. In fact, I would later come to realize how they worked as one, Jack didn't even need to keep shouting directions. In the midst of what was surely a disaster, they seemed to have an uncanny telepathic ability to know where each and every one was supposed to go. It was a bit of order among the chaos.

Of course, those were not my thoughts at the very moment. No, my thoughts were more along the lines of "God's eyebrows, where's Mary?!" Because, if you'll remember, it was entirely my fault that she was here in the first place - if anything happened to her…

"JACK!" I screamed again, and this time he heard me because the world had suddenly gone still. I looked around warily, wondering what all the calm was about. He made is way over, not nearly as graceful on the deck of the Pearl because it was slippery with salt water. "Christina, ye'd best be getting below," he said, grabbing my arm roughly. I wrenched my arm away.

"Where's Mary?!" I shrieked. He looked shocked. "She's not with ye?" he asked. The sailors were eerily quiet, looking around nervously. "Captain," Anamaria said nervously, almost as a warning. I was overcome with foreboding.

"She ran up here…Jack, didn't you see her?" I demanded. Jack's face, which I could see illuminated in the moonlight - the clouds had parted for a moment - was white. "No, luv…I didn't see yer friend," he said hoarsely.

"Sparrow!" Anamaria snapped, a note of panic in her voice. Jack grabbed me and forced me down, making the phrase 'hit the deck' literal. I peeked out under his arm and saw a fork of lightning hit the sea in the distance, and watched as the ocean leapt up to join the dark sky, painting it white; staining it with spectral blood. It was still strangely silent, except for the buzz of the vertical ocean in the distance, which was slowly and steadily coming closer.

"Dear God, the world is ending," I whispered.

(1) A/N

Commodore Norrington was _not_ in a good mood. Young Turner had left Port Royal after promising that he'd stay one more night, so that Norrington could get together a crew. The Commodore wanted to go after the girl, as foolish as the eldest Swann was to run off. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd joined Sparrow, so by going after her he'd be doing several good deeds at once.

One, he would be further proving himself a good and noble man by going after Christina Swann - even when he had no emotional attachment to the chit whatsoever in fact, what he felt for her was close to loathing. True, she was amusing. She was also a respectable swordswoman. But she was infuriating, and had been given entirely too free a reign. If he had been forced to see to such a woman, he would have whipped the crass attitude right out of her…women are to be seen and not heard; to inspire art, but rarely to create it. Were those not the golden rules? Elizabeth Swann was a far better example of a woman. And yet, occasionally it was a bit uplifting to be around such a free spirit as her sister. Improper, yes - she would be better suited in a brothel, surely - Heaven save him if the Governor heard such a thing - but to be able to hear what a woman truly thought was rare indeed. Such traits must run in the family, the Commodore thought to himself, after all, look at who the mother was, running off with pirates. Elizabeth surely was the lucky one, and always had been treated as such, it was not a little known fact.

The second good deed that would have come along with being the first man out to search for Christina was that since she was with Sparrow, Norrington would have a chance - nearly a guarantee - of catching the villain. And as invigorating as it was to finally have a true nemesis out on the seas, it would be better if Sparrow was caught. The last threat real threat to the Caribbean, indeed - think of the fame that would come to the man who caught Sparrow!

But Norrington was a noble man, or liked to think of himself that way. And he would not lie to himself. Perhaps the most alluring attribute of this new adventure was not in the way Elizabeth would appreciate him if he saved her sister - for Commodore Norrington was no fool, he knew that Elizabeth truly felt awful about what had transpired. Hell, she had been crying in her room for hours, Governor Swann had told him so! Alas, Elizabeth was someone that the Commodore would rather not think of. Not after he had so willingly surrendered her, just to have the man he had surrendered to balk and chose another - an affront to his dignity, that was. But no. Commodore Norrington was intrigued with another woman. A woman with fiery red hair and rose petal skin, who had pretended to be something she was not: a fine lady of Port Royal; when indeed she was but a maid. And even though Norrington had acted as befitted a man of his station - shunning the woman who had played him for a fool - he felt that he couldn't stop thinking of her. There was something about Mary Pearl (was that even her real name?) that would not stop nagging at his mind.

Was it the way she had opened up to him, indeed like the living shell that lived to reveal her surname? The way that he fought, gently and steadfastly in the few times that he'd spoken with her, to get past her shy monosyllabic sentences and reveal the woman she was? Was it the way she blushed so fetchingly when he'd asked her if it would be too presumptuous of him to call her Mary - just Mary? The way she always seemed so nervous around him - well, now he knew why.

And yet, he wasn't really upset about the fact that she was a maid. It certainly did complicate things, but he would admit, grudgingly, that he had taken his obligation to act in a way befitting his station rather far. Commodore Norrington had never meant to make her run away. In fact, he wasn't upset about the fact that she was something less than what she had shown him. He was upset, he realized, because it been made clear to him that the only way he'd find a woman who was good and sweet and kind, a woman who could make him forget for the moment the beauty and perfection, the propriety and grace of Elizabeth Swann could only make him forget that if she was in the guise of a noble woman. Commodore Norrington was upset because he'd lost sight of people, only noticing them for their expensive jewelry or ridiculous wigs.

Norrington sighed. He remembered that it wasn't quite so long ago that he was a nothing more than a sailor living in London, sailing for the Crown, a man who lived very similarly to Jack Sparrow. He was loath to admit this, even to himself, and certainly would not utter such a thing to another living soul, but it was true. There was a time when Commodore Norrington had lived for the joy that was the sea, the haven that was a strong ship, her mast, her cloud white sails, the desperation in a storm at sea, the untainted stillness of a windless day. There was a time, now it seemed lost, when Norrington had taken refuge in the righteous enlightenment that was capturing a rogue and forcing him and his crew to face justice. A good dozen rogues and villains later, and what was the result? A bitter, tired man.

Commodore Norrington had achieved what he had once foolishly wished for. He had been named a Commodore, he was a highly respected man in a well-to-do respectable town, good friends with the Governor. He lived in a large house, attended fancy dinners and quiet tea ceremonies with important people. But to what extent? He had become a bitter man, no longer taking the same joy he once did in the sea. There had been very little joy in the rescue mission for Elizabeth - he was sailing to regain a ship, was he not? The Interceptor? Another dashing young man had gone off to save Elizabeth - a harsh reminder of the man Norrington had once been, courageous to the point of rashness, acting merely out of what _seemed _right and not what was practical. It was why he was so willing to surrender Elizabeth to young Turner, yes? Because if he couldn't be the man he used to be, at least she could have someone who was…perhaps time would have been kinder to Mr. Turner.

Commodore Norrington was not old, not really, but he felt so. He had not yet reached thirty, though he would within a year. The thought made him quail. Thirty years upon this earth, and yet it had been the better part of a decade that he'd spent as a bitter, somber man. He could barely recall what it felt to hear the lull of the sea against the side of a ship and feel bliss in its playful splashing. Suddenly, Norrington was very jealous of Jack Sparrow, something else that he would never dwell on long enough to admit to himself or anyone else.

Thirty years…and what did he have? He had courted a woman for the better part of five years, and wondered fleetingly if Elizabeth had indeed been his downfall, if her steady and unchanging refusal had been what finally wore down his soul. Perhaps not, because he remembered how lucky he had felt when Governor Swann kept agreeing to let him call on her…it was enough to ignore the fact that Elizabeth rarely smiled in his presence, and when she did it never reached her eyes. Not once in five years had he seen her smile.

Thirty years, and he was a lonely man. A man with no family, no wife, no children. A man who sought to save the Governor's eldest not for her sake, because she had not really been captured, had she? No, he sought to rescue her to further his own celebrity. He planned to set out for her not to save her from a cruel fate of living among pirates - that was what she had opted for, wasn't it? - but to heighten his own esteem. Commodore Norrington had not felt like a noble man in a long time, only just realizing it now. He was a bitter, lonely man; a man who had turned away the most recent delight allotted to him. The fiery, flame-haired woman had thought that he hated her (he was at fault, he made her believe this to be true, did he not?) and so she had run off with a pirate. Ironic, it seemed to him, how often such a thing happened here at the most respectable Port Royal.

The wind picked up, louder and more terrible than before and yet around me I heard nothing. I stared fixedly at the white wall of terror before me, never having seen anything quite so incredible. Nothing had brought me to absolute stillness before this, nothing. Nothing had ever invoked so deep a fear.

"Brace yerself, love," Jack said, and the crew all sat huddled as the wall that was the ocean gained closer, agonizingly slow. I tore my eyes away and saw a figure, a figure with long hair in a tight bun and running in a sopping dress as she screamed and tumbled over the side of the Pearl.

"Mary!" I shouted, elbowing Jack roughly so he would let go of me. My legs had taken on a life of their own, and I didn't know what I was doing, only that I was following my best friend. "MARY!" I screamed, hurling myself over the side of the ship after her - Mary didn't know how to swim, not well enough to keep from drowning - and diving into the salty cold water.

The ocean hit me in the face hard, and I opened my eyes, ignoring the sting. I hadn't been a good swimmer under the best of circumstances, but diving into an ocean in the midst of a storm was like diving into another world. The Pearl, which when under Jack's guidance, always seemed like a friendly place, was now a hovering black mass above me. I nearly fainted, but took a breath, treading water, and looked for a subdued splashing that would make itself known from the roil of the rest of the waves. A least I couldn't see the wall that was approaching. I swam to the spot where I'd heard Mary fall.

Amazingly, she had been splashing around enough to keep herself somewhat above water, and I grabbed onto her, holding her head above. Her eyes were closed, and in this moment I was more certain that I would die than any other time I could recall. Now death was more certain than when I'd been marooned, more certain than when I'd dueled with the pirates and been slashed in the ribs, left bleeding in cold puddles. And now was more horrible, because not only would I die, but I'd dragged my best friend into it as well.

I tasted salt on my lips, and laughed madly. It couldn't be from tears, but I would never know, I would drown in the salt water of the same material. "Forgive me, Mary," I whispered.

"CHRISTINA!" I heard Jack yell, but I had floated on my back, holding Mary's head above still, I would not let my best friend sink to the bottom of the sea without me. The white ocean would be upon us soon, I only hoped that Jack got out alive.

"Tell Will I'm so sorry," I murmured, and suddenly terror shoved out the acceptance of death. I did not want to die, and I at least owed it to Mary to fight. "JACK!" I screamed, praying beyond anything I'd ever prayed for before that he'd hear me.

I saw a wood plank from flying out of nowhere, attached to it was a rope. Unfortunately, Jack's little ploy to save me would not go smoothly - how could it, when I had the worst luck in the world? It hit me square in the head, not with much force but enough to make me see stars…then again, I _was_ looking up. I went under and came up moments later, sputtering, my grip on Mary tighter than ever.

"JACK!" I screamed again and again until my voice was hoarse. Moments later, I was nearly drowned by a large figure diving on top of me. His attempts at rescue were horribly off-color. I was pulled up roughly, and so was Mary, now so pale she seemed blue. I looked around blearily, and saw Jack with one arm around my waist and one clinging to the plank that had nearly rendered me unconscious again.

"Can't catch to save yer life, eh, love?" he asked, looking furious with me. "PULL!" I shrieked, and held onto Mary with one arm and both legs, the other arm clinging to Jack as we were raised out of the water and against the side of the ship.

It took about ten members of the crew to hurl us aboard, seeing as how we were blown here and there by the wind. By now, the wall of sea foam was less than a fifty yards away. "EVERYONE BELOW!" Jack roared, heaving me towards Anamaria as he carried Mary. The crew rushed forward, and for sailors who had been at sea for years, not a one looked the least bit calm.

Jack laid Mary down on the bunk I shared with her, and I sat with him, holding tightly to anything I could find that was bolted onto the ship. Mary lay still, pale and small. _Please be alive, please_, I begged, unaware of the silent tears that poured down my face.

It felt as if someone had royally brassed off Poseidon, most likely us seeing as how we were tossed about. At one point I was convinced that the ship was laying on its side, but the Pearl was not one to lay down and take being slaughtered. She put up a fight, and I heard Jack hover between cursing and apologizing to his ship.

It went on for a surprisingly short time, as the ocean ripped through us. We were raised up, my stomach lurched and I was certain that we were flying through the air; we were sucked down until I knew we had touched the very bottom of the sea. I was amazed that I hadn't lost every meal I'd had since birth. Mary did not move through any of this. At one point I was sure my heart had stopped beating, that time itself had frozen, that the world had indeed ended, and I grabbed Jack's hand. He didn't look at me, he was muttering to himself again, and it seemed as if he was praying. This struck me as an odd type of reassurance, to see Jack pray. Jack Sparrow, the pirate, praying for deliverance from the very ocean that was his freedom. I squeezed his hand, knowing that even if we did not make it out of this, I would have died surrounded by good people.

The candle had long since gone out in the cabins, but it was just as well. We slowly came to a stop, the insane dance of the ship slowing to a rocking that I could handle. It was as if the whole crew had let out a sigh, and I let go of Jack quickly, embarrassed. What would this pirate, this brave captain, think of me…I, who had so foolishly thrown herself overboard to join her best friend, both Mary and I had no hope of survival, had it not been for Jack.

I fell back against the bunk and closed my eyes, never having felt so tired in my life. I took a breath, and fell back into a darkness which had become so familiar in this one night.

When I woke, the crew was still in the cabins, though most of them were awake. I sat up quickly, banging my head for the third time against the top bunk. I swore, and then was embarrassed for having broken the silence. A few crew members chuckled, most still looked as terrified as I felt last night. It was hard to think about the storm, it seemed so unreal. I wouldn't have believe it to have happened, if I hadn't still been wet from the sea, and if Mary hadn't still been pale and still beside me.

"We grew to comfortable with the sea, mates, and were reminded of that last night. The Pearl held up strong, though. Any casualties?" Jack asked gruffly, looking a bit worse for wear, not as drunk as he normally seemed. Anamaria nodded, "Just one, Captain. Cotton's parrot…he's nowhere to be found," she said. I sighed, watching Mr. Cotton as he sat dejectedly in the corner of the cabins. He said nothing…well, obviously. I was relieved, however, that there had not been any human casualties.

Jack sighed as well. "Truly sorry for yer loss, Cotton," he said softly. Mr. Cotton nodded. I put a hand to Mary's forehead, she was burning up. "Jack!" I cried. He turned around and sat on the bunk. "She's burning up…good," Jack said, pleased. I glowered, "What do you mean, good?" I demanded. He glared right back at me. "It means she's alive, Princess, and ye'd do best to remember that Jack's the Captain," Anamaria said coldly. I looked at Jack, surprised, but he said nothing and went up. The rest of the crew followed, not a one stopping to look at me.

I spent the rest of the day in the cabins, removing Mary's dress and leaving her in her shift. I covered her with all the blankets I could find and made her drink dippers full of the fresh water, forgoing the ale and rum. There was a good deal more fresh water, ever since the storm. Rain water. I swore that I would not leave her side until she woke up, and sponged her forehead and neck lightly with cool water.

"Mary, I am so sorry," I whispered, sniffing. I didn't cry, but it would have been better if I did. It would have been a bit of a relief. Mary's eyes fluttered, but remained closed, and she took a deeper breath but still didn't wake. "Please wake up," I said, sitting her up so she could take another sip of water.

"Captain wants you, Princess," Anamaria said, leaning against a bunk and looking harshly at me. I looked up, "But, Mary's -"

"Captain calls on ye, and yer to _go_," Anamaria snapped. She was angry with me, very angry, and I hadn't had the slightly clue as to why.

"No," I said stoutly. Anamaria walked up to me and pulled me to my feet. I glared at her and wrenched my arm out of her grip. "Are ye being mutinous, Christina?" she spat. I opened my mouth, and then bowed my head. "No," I said softly, casting a worried look at Mary before turning to the head to the deck.

"I'll watch her," Anamaria said quietly, and I nodded, leaving to see the Captain.

"He's in the crows nest," one of the crew members said to me, pointing. As if I didn't know where it bloody was. I nodded again, biting my tongue, and climbed up. I paused in the middle, looking at the sails. The main one had a large rip in it. "Oh, wonderful," I muttered darkly, climbing the rest of the way up.

Jack was standing with his back to me, leaning on the rim of the nest. "You wanted to see me, Captain?" I asked hesitantly, remembering what Anamaria had said. It seemed to strange to call him Captain, he was just Jack to me. It wasn't like I was an important enough member of the crew that I had to call him captain…I wasn't even the slightest threat of mutiny, regardless of what Anamaria had said.

"Brave thing ye did, Christina," he said. "Stupid, but brave."

I felt my eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Forgine me, Captain, but what are you talking about?" I was so disoriented after the storm last night, that I hardly knew where I was anymore, let alone what brave things I'd done. If you ask me, I'd been nothing but a coward all last night.

"Takes a loyal friend to jump off the safety of a ship and into the sea," Jack said. I grinned, "I hope you don't take offence in this, Captain, but last night the Pearl hardly seemed safe," I said. He chuckled. "Aye…took a lot, she did…ye saw the main sail? Hole the size of ruddy Norrington's ego in it, there is," he said. I nodded, not realizing that he couldn't see me with his back turned. Like I said, disoriented.

"So, Captain, what did you want me here for?" I asked again.

"Stop with the bloody Captain, fer one." Jack said as he turned around, looking just as surprised as I was. Jack usually insists that everyone call him Captain. He shrugged. "I wanted to tell ye…what ye did last night, jumpin' in the water to save yer friend -"

"I didn't really _save_ her, Jack," I said.

"It was somethin' ol' Bootstrap woulda' done," Jack continued, silencing me sufficiently. I swallowed. "Was it?" I asked faintly. He nodded, offering a glinted grin. The sun was out high in the sky, almost unbearably bright, and it struck me as odd how last night was the complete opposite of today.

I looked away, trying to put into words what I was thinking. "Dear William doesn't seem quite so important now, does he?" Jack asked. I looked up, wringing my hands. "No, that's not it…its just…Jack, I could have _died_ last night," I said, trembling. He nodded again, sagely. "Puts things in perspective," he said. I tilted my head up, closing my eyes. It was so warm.

"Not only that, but because of me, Mary could have died…it makes me feel like maybe there are more important things than…"

"Love?" he asked. I shook my head. "No, I wouldn't have dived in after Mary if I hadn't felt she was more of a sister to me than, well, anyone. Not love…pride, maybe."

"He took an awful slight to yer dignity, luv, I understand."

I smiled. "Hmm," I said. The topic of Will and myself was not one that I particularly cared to speak about.

"Ye know, he's probably going to come lookin' for ye. Seems the type…always gotta be the hero. Bloody wanker, if ye were to ask me. Makes an terrible prat of himself."

I laughed. "Let him come," I said, feeling more confident than I had in days. Right now, I was more worried about Mary than Will. In fact all I felt for him were the stirrings of indignation, not the paralyzing sadness that I'd felt upon leaving Port Royal.

"May I leave?" I asked Jack. He nodded, rolling his eyes at me, his old swagger returning a bit. He was staring at the torn sail, calculating, but I distinctly heard him mutter "Always so arrogant, right after death nearly takes ye,"

I didn't spend any time pondering this.

(1) A/N _I'm going to try something different this time. Since Christina is not particularly close to Commodore Norrington, she's going to have no idea what he's up to…and she probably never will. Therefore, whatever goes on with the Commodore is going to be told in the third person - it'll just make it a lot less confusing for me…could somebody please remind me why I was stupid enough to embark on this story in the first person in the first place? It makes this awfully hard to maneuver. Anyway, when she talks about Will and what he's doing, notice how she always says (or at least, always intends to say - whether or not I type the phrase is a coin toss) "Later I would learn," or what not. Therefore, eventually, she finds out everything that went on. Whether or not the outcome is good remains to be seen - then again, perhaps if I wanted to be mysterious, I would have given this fic a different title…::grin::]_

A/N: I _love_ what I wrote about Norrington, and I _hate_ how I described the storm…this story has a mind of its own, I swear, because I have a plan but it just keeps changing and transforming and all these new ideas just suddenly come up and bite me…I think I may be a bit comma-happy, too. I hope you liked this chapter, but I'm very torn over it. Christina's a bit annoying in this one, isn't she? More than usual, I mean. There's going to be a bit of Elizabethan POV in the next chapter (if I can pull it off), I'm trying to make my characters more well-rounded - Christina can't be the saintly good-girl White Knight all the time, can she? Because that gets a bit boring…

RR, please!

-Crystyna

P.S. I wrote this the same day as I updated chapter 15...the WHOLE thing. But I'm not updating 'til laaaay-terrrr….::wicked grin::


	17. Laurelyn

Disclaimer: This is the second time I'm posting this story, since it got removed from the site for reasons known to me...anyways, since I have a hunch that it MIGHT have been the "chat/script" format of my past disclaimers, I'm going to have to do away with all the fun disclaimer and be boring. I have to conform and say that I own nothing related to Pirates of The Caribbean and in fact the only things I do own fiction-wise are the characters that I come up with. bows

Summary: Christina and Will are now engaged. Yay!!! So then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after, right?…Not quite.

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update! It was just - well, I was waiting for summer to come because I really looked forward to writing, but when I suddenly had all this time to write, I couldn't force myself to do it. During the school year I had to find time to write or nothing would ever get written. Now, I just have too much time on my hands, and yet summer is going by so fast…

It took a good week to fix the sails so they were fit for travel, and we had been blown off course by the wind. It seemed to be in our favor, however, as Tortuga was closer than it had been before, and Jack informed me that we would reach it within the week. He also said that we were to meet up with Mr. Gibbs, but would not disclose just what the mysterious pick-me-up was. I assumed that it was a woman, someone to warm that Captain's bed while we were out at sea.

However, if that was the truth, it didn't explain why he was being so secretive about it. Surely it was nothing to be embarrassed about, especially for a man like Jack, where his fondness for women was blatantly obviously.

Mary had spent the better part of the week recovering from the ordeal she had gone through, first tumbling from the ship and then being rescued twice over by myself and Jack. Neither rescues were as a knight would rescue a damsel, as I had to be rescued myself and when Jack tried to save me, it had nearly resulted in my death.

This was something Mary and I teased him about often, and Anamaria grew more and more disgruntled as it became obvious that we were the favorites of the ship. I found that I cared very little - as much as I did respect Anamaria, it was rare that I was ever the favorite in anything, and would not discourage it now just for her goodwill.

Mary has recovered fully as we prepared to set sail again, and I was put in charge of teaching her how to defend herself. This was easier said than done. The deck was off limits as it was often very busy, except sometimes at dawn Jack would assign one of the crew members to duel with me "to keep me on my toes" as he said, and to see that I was not getting soft from disuse of my skills with a blade. Mary watched, fascinated, and surprised me by being quite eager to learn.

"Well, seeing as how it seems unlikely that we shall be among civilized men - not to say that you are uncivilized, Captain Sparrow, just that you do not hold women to such ideals as the men of Port Royal - it seems fitting that I should learn how to defend myself. Especially if we are going to such places as Tortuga," she finished with a shudder. I grinned and gave her my sword, as it was lighter and made for a woman. I thought for a moment of Will, who had made it for me, and I didn't know what to think. I thought of him very rarely now, if at all, sometimes going full days without his face appearing in my mind. But when I did think of him, it was as if I was caught between a rock and a hard place, not knowing whether I should be angry or upset, or to just let it go. Since it seemed obvious to me now that he was not coming for me, contrary to what Jack said, I thought I should forget about him. Maybe forget about men altogether, for a time. After all, I had been gone for quite a few weeks and it seemed that even my father had deserted to me to the fate that I had chosen.

I was grateful for this, partially, because it meant that I was finally free of the life I had led - though perhaps not entirely unpleasant - in Port Royal. I was no longer the Governor's eldest daughter, no longer Elizabeth's sister. I was Christina, a member of the crew of Jack Sparrow the Captain of the Black Pearl. I was not Will Turner's fiancé, or the woman he betrayed. At sea I belonged to no man, except sometimes when Jack gloated that he had the three most beautiful women on his ship, bad luck or no. And even then, he was just joking, something he would hastily admit as Anamaria - who took her freedom more seriously even than I - would glare daggers at him.

Mary said she felt quite similarly. She had not thought of Commodore Norrington since the storm, and I thought that the near-death experiences were quite good for us. It had snapped both of us out of our misery caused by the men we love. ("Love? Oh, Christina, surely I do not love the Commodore!" Mary said, and Jack remarked snidely how he sincerely hoped that a woman such as Mary could not love a git such as the Commodore.)

But I still loved Will, of that I knew to be true. It was more something that I had grown accustomed too, perhaps like a chipped tooth that feels rough and awkward as first, and natural as time goes on. I smiled to think of the expression on Will's face if he knew that I had compared him to a chipped tooth. But it was true. Maybe I always would love Will, or the memory of Will, even if I never saw him again. I would love how for years I had yearned for him secretly, never thinking he could love me back. He was a comfort and a curse in the long, lonely stretch of adolescence. I would think of how lucky I was to have such a handsome man as my best friend, and mope about how he'd never see me as anything but a friend. Now, however, I reminded myself that Will wasn't always quite the dashing young man. I smiled, thinking of him in his awkward fifteenth year, when his feet seemed to large from his body. Most of the bouts I'd won against him had been when he was about fifteen, because he couldn't seem to control himself in order to be coordinated. And perhaps our friendship was not so innocent as I liked to remember - I remembered now how on a few occasions his eyes would wander along my body, as all I wore was a shift and sometimes just a pair of britches and a shirt I'd borrowed from him.

I loved him for the short weeks of our first true adventure, the rescue mission for Elizabeth. I loved how he was so protective of me around Jack, and how he defended my honor as best he could, even though it was hardly his place to do so. I smirked, remembering how the odd events had led up to Jack being the first man to share my bed - and how I remained still a maiden afterwards. Surely no other woman could boast such a feat.

I loved Will Turner even for the few sweet moments when he did say he loved me. I would love him even for the distress he caused me, because without it, I would have never left Port Royal, and would never have known the joy and terror, and the freedom, of the Black Pearl and her consort, the sea.

Mary and I soon grew tan in the unrelenting sun, though Mary's color was more reddish and she tried to avoid it altogether by wearing large hats to protect her face. "I may be miles away from a civilized town, but that does not mean that I must be as red as a lobster!" she said. I shrugged, going about with my hair tied back lazily and my face in the sun, and Mary scolding me about how my nose would soon burn off if I was not careful.

As much as I wish I could say that Mary was a natural swordswoman it turned out that she was not, and it took a good three quarters of an hour to get her to hold the blade properly. She was not used to the strain of lunging and advancing, and so I had her climbing the rafters each day, and stretching each night. It took a full two days before she learned a respectable advance, and another three before she could manage a lunge without losing her balance, but we practiced religiously for hours each day and Mary was never one to complain.

Finally, on the sixth day of our sailing, Mary managed to parry properly and repost, hitting me in the shoulder rather harder than she would have needed to for a practice bout. I overlooked the large welt I had in my arm because she was so ecstatic, and we agreed that the rest of the day we would relax and I prepared her for the shock that was Tortuga - but nothing I said could prevent me from the shock that I myself would receive there.

Jack had promised that the first thing we would do (after getting a drink of course) would be to go shopping. I had lent Mary my clothes because they were easier to maneuver in and was now running about the ship in her shift, tattered and torn about my legs. The men, as honorable as they were to Jack, could not help staring at the bare legs of a woman. I prayed that once we reached Tortuga there would be women enough to satisfy them, even though I was hardly concerned for my own safety.

It was a cool night when we finally arrived at Tortuga and the crew rushed off the ship like wild men possessed. Mary and I stood in the crow's nest laughing, and slowly made are way down to Jack, who was waiting for us. "Me ladies," he said extravagantly, offering an arm to each of us, "Shall we depart from my faithful ship, and make merry upon Tortuga?" he asked, with a wicked grin.

Mary glanced at me, barely containing her own smile. She had let her hair down, it glowed fiery red to her waist as she had brushed it this morning. My own hair she had braided back tightly in the style I preferred, and with Jack we made our way to Tortuga.

As much as Mary had changed during her time on the Pearl, she still was not prepared for the brothel that was every square foot of Tortuga. This time no women came up to Jack to smack him around, for which I was glad, but there were many evil glares tossed my way and Mary's.

"It seems, Captain, that you are quite a catch among the womenfolk of Tortuga." Mary said quietly, looking rather offended as a woman with very few teeth leered angrily at her. Jack waggled his eyebrows at her, "I'm quite a catch among the womenfolk of any town, Miss Mary, surely ye didna' doubt that." he said. Mary nodded, and I smiled at her over Jack's shoulder, she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"I beg to differ, Captain Sparrow, I do not find ye a catch at all." said a mockingly snooty voice behind us. Jack turned around hastily, his hands up by his chest as if the speaker had done some grievous injury to him. Before us stood a woman, about my height, with blond hair so pretty that it could have put Elizabeth to shame. The woman had her hands to her hips and a warm smile on her lips, making it known that she was not angry with Jack at all.

"Laurelyn, darling, how long has it been since I've seen ye?" Jack proclaimed, abandoning Mary and I so quickly that we both were a bit offended. Laurelyn grinned and let Jack hug her, even being so bold as to lean up and kiss him on the cheek. I cleared my throat and Mary folded her arms over his chest.

"It seems yer new women are possessive, Mr. Sparrow, the type of women ye swore ye'd have nothing to do with," the woman said, her green eyes twinkling at us in the faint firelight that lit the streets.

"We are hardly Captain Sparrow's _wenches_, if that's what you mean." Mary said indignantly.

"I can't fer the life of me figure out why ye'd be opposed to it, Mary-belle." Jack said cheekily, and Mary looked as if she were ready to use what little bit of swordplay I'd taught her to cut Jack to ribbons.

"Who is this woman, Jack?" I asked before she could do so, although I would have found it highly amusing.

"_I_ am Laurelyn Lupine, and I own that shop over yonder, and the pub beneath it," Laurelyn said, eyeing me carefully. I shrugged, "And I suppose you are one of Jack's women too, then, or a woman of Tortuga?" I asked, taking in her deep blue dress and violent red bodice, and the tall boots that she wore, visible because much of her legs were exposed. She knew as well as I did that I meant nothing innocent by calling her a woman of Tortuga.

"I'll have ye know, girl, that I have never sold this body to any man - and never will!" she snarled. I lowered my eyes, properly admonished, and muttered an apology. When I looked up she held my gaze somberly and then smiled. "It's quite aright, ye wont be the first nor the last to make such an assumption. Even Jack here did once, and he wont soon forget how quickly he took it back, will ye, Captain Sparrow?" she asked, and Mary and I were desperately curious to know what exactly this Laurelyn had done to make Jack take back his words so quickly.

Jack laughed heartily, "No, luv, that I wont." he said.

"What are ye doin' in such a wholesome town as this, Captain?" Laurelyn asked, but before he could answer a man grabbed Laurelyn around the waist and slipped a coin into her bodice. "That's a down-payment, that is, and they'll be more, lady, if ye'd be so kind to accompany me to that stable over yonder." he said. Laurelyn did not have a care to look outraged, but I did. She merely pulled a knife from a sheathe hidden somewhere in her skirts and stomped on the man's foot so he let go of her. In a flash she was behind him, with the knife held to his throat.

"If ye so much as think of touching me again, old man, it'll be yer last thought - be happy it's a pleasant one, not many get to go thinkin' of a stunning _lady _they'd mistaken as a common whore." she spat. The man nodded, terrified and furious with himself for looking terrified as Jack roared with laughter and Mary smiled weakly. I stood, staring at Laurelyn and feeling a distinct pity for her. How often did men ask her for such services as that of a wench - an awful blow to a woman's pride, that must be, more awful even than if a fiancé and gone off and kissed the sister of the woman he supposedly loved.

Laurelyn saw me looking at her and glared. "I need no one's pity." she snapped, pulling the coin from her bodice and spitting on it, and then whirling around to throw it at the man who had accosted her. It hit him square in the back of the head, but Laurelyn did not look to see if he turned around.

"What can I do for ye, Jack?" she asked.

"It just so happens that these two women here have joined me crew," Jack said, nodding at Mary and I. "And I shall be needing proper garments for them." Laurelyn looked at us, calculating. "Done," she said. "If yeh'll follow me to my shop, I'll take care o' that. Anything else?" she asked. Jack nodded. "It's been months since I've been in a good pub, love -"

"I'd be delighted if yeh'd honor mine, Captain." she said with a flirtatious smile.

"So where do you two come from?" Laurelyn asked, and I looked up. Her rogue-ish accent was gone, in fact she spoke as articulately as would make my father proud, and her eyes seemed clearer than they had out in the street. I didn't bother to try to scrutinize this - I understood that sometimes it was necessary to put up an act in order to fit in comfortably in any given place. Like all the times I'd been forced to act like a proper lady at some banquet or another, merely to keep the peace with my father. Mary and I had followed Laurelyn to the shop she owned as it was right above the pub where Jack had decided to wait for us. "Leave the shopping up to the ladies, that's what I always say!" he told us, swaggering off to the bar and eyeing a barmaid.

"We are from Port Royal." I answered as Mary wandered off through the shop.

"Really? Fancy old place, isn't it? What brings you to Tortuga?" she questioned, and I studied her warily. I didn't know whether or not I should tell her why we were here, I was speaking to a woman who I hardly knew and had just met. But Jack seemed to like her, and trust her enough to leave Mary and myself with her, so it couldn't hurt. Aside from his mutinous First Mate, Barbossa, Jack seemed like a relatively good judge of character.

"You don't have to tell me, I'm just a bit nosy. Don't get uppity folks such as the likes of you here in Tortuga, I fancy news of the civilized world from time to time." Laurelyn said, and I nodded.

"To tell you the truth, Mary and I ran away." I said.

"From what?" Laurelyn asked distractedly, picking out clothes and holding them up to see if they were basically my size.

"Well, I'm running from my fiancé -" I started, but Laurelyn looked up sharply and said with an amused smile, "Ah, a runaway bride, are ye? Afraid of the long walk?"

I smiled sadly. "I wish I was afraid of the 'long walk', as you put it. But no. Will - my fiancé, that is, loves another woman. My sister, as luck would have it." I said. Laurelyn looked shocked. "Oh - I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"It's quite alright," I said, waving my hand. And strangely, it was quite alright. I remembered how hesitantly I had told Mr. Gibbs and Jack about why I was leaving, how I had to force myself not to break down every time I mentioned Will's name. But now, things were different. Perhaps it was because I was at Tortuga, where honor and fidelity seemed to be as far away as fairytales. Maybe because after sailing for a good deal, I was far enough away from Will to be immune to the hurt and anger he'd caused. Maybe because Laurelyn was a woman, and could understand the pain of these matters better, whereas Jack and Gibbs could associate more with causing said pain.

"I think it worked out for the best, anyway. I never really fit in in Port Royal, and I would have hated to been married to a man who always secretly desired my sister. Perhaps it couldn't have been kept a secret, in spite of whether or not Will and I had gotten married. I'm not even sure if Will loved me in the first place." I said, knowing that to be untrue.

"I take that back - he did love me. But in the way a cousin will love a cousin, I suppose. Not in the way a man will love his wife. At least we both realized it before it was too late." I said thoughtfully. Laurelyn nodded sagely. "Men never can make up their minds, can they?" she mused, hopping up to sit on a counter and dangling her legs. I mirrored her, and we both listen to a while as Mary shuffled around the shop looking at various articles of clothing.

The shop wasn't very big but what it lacked in size it made up in personality. The walls were a deep orange color and the floor was scrubbed clean. There were corsets and dresses and garters and all womanly clothing styles, mind you, they were all very revealing and would never be seen in Port Royal. There were also men's clothing but specially made for what one would have to call 'petite' men. Laurelyn told me that all the clothing was made especially for women, so that women pirates such as Anamaria would never have to compromise themselves by hemming men's clothing to fit into it. "There's not a reason in the world why a woman shouldn't travel." Laurelyn said wistfully.

"So, you say that you never fit in in Port Royal? Why's that?" she asked as we were silent once again. I offered her a lopsided grin. "Have you no eyes, woman?" I demanded, jumping off the counter. "Just look at me! Do I look like a proper lady to you?" I held up my hands so she could see the calluses, and gestured to my tan skin and sun lightened hair. Laurelyn laughed. "Well, no, not exactly - but somewhere under all that must have been a proper lady, at one point." she said mischievously.

"Laurelyn, my dear, if there ever was a drop of propriety in my blood, it's long since been let out." I said. "Besides, running away is in my blood. My mother ran away when I was young, she ran off with a pirate. It seems my fleeing Port Royal was inevitable."

Laurelyn nodded. "I wish I could say the same for my mother. She was a very proper lady, however, part of the Court and all that. She liked to believe she was higher up in the nobility than she actually was, attending lavish balls and the like. But she died when I was four, and my father took me here. She had spent most of her money on gowns and such, and we had no choice but to leave or my father would have been thrown in prison. So he made a life for us here." she said. I kept quiet. I had told her a lot about my life, but hadn't mentioned the fact that my father was the Governor of Port Royal. I wanted to learn more about her before I told her that.

"My father wanted to marry me off, but there's hardly a respectable man in this town and even if there was, we'd never make a dowry that could be taken for me." she sounded bitter, I wondered what her father had told her to make her doubt herself like this.

"I think you are a dowry in yourself," I said gently. Laurelyn grinned. "Yes, I suppose I am. But I told my father I'd never marry any man he chose for me, and grudgingly my father gave in. He was a good man, he could have easily just given me up to the first man that offered. So I learned how to run a pub and established my own shop," she continued, waving her arm around the expanse of the store. "And I'm doing well for myself, I suppose."

"It seems that you are. What of your father?" I asked. Laurelyn sighed. "He's still alive, but in his age he's torn up with missing my mother. I do believe at one point they truly were in love, before she became obsessed with the finery of nobility. Before the fever took her." Laurelyn answered quietly, and I regretted asking the question. But a smile was again upon her face in seconds. "And then I met Jack." she said with a sigh. I raised my eyebrows.

"Jack, bless him, is the only man I've ever loved - 'tis a shame that he's a pirate, because I'd take him for a husband in a second." she said. She got a wicked look in her eye, "And I would have, too, but out of the kindness of my heart I would not have tied him down."

"Pardon?" I said, utterly lost.

"Jack…well, Jack made the mistake of thinking I was a common wench. He came into my pub one night and had gotten piss drunk - not a surprise, I'm sure. He was alone at the bar and I'd been working downstairs that night. He looked terrible, as if he'd been alone for years. Little did I know that it was after he'd been marooned, and he'd just been wandering around, searching for a way to get back to his precious ship." she said, narrowing her brilliant green eyes a bit. I waited, not wanting to interrupt.

"There were a few shifty looking men in my pub, more than the usual tossers that I get, you know? And they were looking at him and muttering. He didn't notice, but I did. So before he could leave - and when he got up to leave, they got up as well, there was not a doubt in my mind that he'd meet an unlucky end - I invited him up to my room."

"You _what?_"

Laurelyn grinned slyly. "Well, it was either that or let the man get killed or beaten to a bloody pulp! So I played the part of the wench and - predictably - Jack came."

I sat in shock, staring at her. She tossed her blonde head with a smirk.

"So Jack and you…are lovers?"

"No, not this day nor any day before, I'm afraid. Jack came up to my room and passed out cold on my bed. I stayed up all night watching over him. He tried to pay me in the morning, as if we'd actually done something that he couldn't remember."

"Well, what did you do?"

"I told him that if anything of the romantic nature had indeed transpired between us, it wasn't something that he was likely to forget. And I also told him that there were men out looking for him, and it would probably be best if he stayed with me for a while."

"_Laurelyn!_"

"Obviously, Jack didn't say no." She smirked again.

"Well, what happened?!" I demanded, furious that she could keep me on the edge like this. She grinned and her eyes darted around the room sneakily.

"Well, by the third night we couldn't contain our passion for each other any longer, and he stayed to warm my bed for a fortnight!" she proclaimed. I shrieked and nearly fell off the table. Laurelyn sat primly, laughing.

"What are you, some kind of Governor's daughter?" she snorted. I grimaced. "Well, actually, _yes _I am. And that shouldn't be any reason to explain my shock! You _are_ Jack's lover!" I accused her, and she rolled her eyes as I picked myself up off the floor.

"No, dimwit, I'm not. He did stay for two weeks, but was a perfect gentleman about it. I was only sixteen at the time, after all, and my father lives in a room downstairs. My bed is in the loft and even with all the unholy ruckus that goes about downstairs, my father's got the ears of hound." she said this a bit regretfully and I raised an eyebrow. Mary caught my eye - she had emerged from wherever she was and had been listening with varying degrees of disapproval and amusement written across her face. Her face was flushed rather obviously from what Laurelyn had implied in her last few statements.

"Oy, did you just say that you are a _Governor's _daughter?" Laurelyn asked. I sighed, "Catch on quick, don't you?"

"And you're _still_ running away?" she asked. I shrugged. "Being a Governor's daughter doesn't guarantee happiness." I said uncomfortably. She studied me calmly. "No, I suppose not." she answered, as if waiting for me to clarify.

"I'm a twin. My sister Elizabeth…well, she could be considered the angelic one. She's beautiful, and proper, well-raised and such. She's had more suitors than I can count, and Will - the man I was supposed to marry - he's been in love with her since we were twelve. It's rather romantic, actually - she spotted him in the water eight years ago on the crossing from England. And he saved her life just a few months ago when she was abducted by the pirate Barbossa." I explained. Laurelyn looked angry.

"That's not romantic, that's cliché!" she said.

"Call it what you will. Anyway, I've always been second best to her, and rather the black sheep of the family, ever since my mother left. My father adores Elizabeth and I've been quite overlooked. It's hardly been fun," I paused, and took a breath. What I meant to say next, well, I didn't know how it would affect me. "…when I caught Will and Elizabeth kissing in the garden right under my balcony, I decided that there really was nothing left tying me to Port Royal - with Will obviously off to marry Elizabeth, why should I stay? And Jack's been a dear friend to me, I've grown quite fond of him since I first met him. I'm sure I'll be much happier on the Pearl than at Port Royal."

"What if he comes looking for you?" Laurelyn asked. I laughed. "If you ever saw Elizabeth, you would know that there is no reason for him to come after me." I scoffed, and Mary tossed me a chastising look.

"What about you, Mary?" Laurelyn asked. It occurred to me that we'd been sitting around talking for nearly four hours, and hadn't done a bit of shopping. I was sure that Jack would not mind having to stay in a pub for four hours, but we couldn't stay at Tortuga forever.

"I was a maid in Governor Swann's household." Mary said quietly, obviously not as quickly comfortable with Laurelyn as I had been. Laurelyn nodded. "And you…just decided to run away one day?" she prompted. Mary glared. "Christina asked me to go with her." she said defensively. Laurelyn shrugged. I admonished Mary silently. Obviously there was nothing to be suspicious of Laurelyn for, why was Mary being so guarded? After all, we were all women here. Who else can women trust if not each other? I thought of my sister - the one female in the world who was supposed to be my closest confidante, and took back that thought. Obviously, women could be as fickle and selfish as men. Mary sighed, as if understanding my thought, and I was grateful once again that she'd come with me and that her life had been spared from that awful storm.

"I deceived the Commodore, if you must know." she said quietly.

"Whew, girl, is that what you did?" Laurelyn asked with a proud grin on her face. She looked as if she wanted to shake Mary's hand. "Don't tell me - was it Norrington?" she asked, her eyes glittering, and Mary and I exchanged looks. "Yes, it was Commodore Norrington - how do you know of him?" Mary asked apprehensively. Laurelyn let out a hearty laugh.

"Everyone in the Caribbean knows of that git," she said. Mary looked offended. "He's not a git." she said quietly. Laurelyn looked surprised. "When you say deceived…" she started. Mary looked down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap.

"I dressed up as a lady and went into town with Christina, and met the Commodore there. He's really quite nice -" Mary dared a look at me, and I tried to smile reassuringly. "But when he found out I was a maid…he was rather angry that I impersonated a lady…he said that I played him for a fool." Mary whispered. It dawned on me then that as much as I had come to terms with what had been done to me by Will, Mary was still very much infatuated or maybe even in love with the Commodore.

"Whew." Laurelyn said, running a hand through her hair. I yawned and tried to stir the conversation in a different direction, as Mary looked quite uncomfortable. "Jack said that he's going to be spending the night in Tortuga, but you're welcome to stay here." Laurelyn said hospitably. I smiled, "Only if its not too much trouble." I answered, and Mary nodded graciously.

"Oh, its no trouble at all. You don't know how long I've been waiting to have a meaningful conversation among women - the women of Tortuga are not particularly fond of each other. There's a lot of competition, I expect." Laurelyn said. "And I also think that most women are unhappy here." she added thoughtfully.

"They don't seem that way," Mary said.

"They're drunk, most of the time. But it can't be pleasant, selling your body to a different man each night. Upper-class people such as yourselves don't understand it, but I see it all the time. Most of the women here are not in these positions by choice. They're runaways just like you - but not all are lucky enough to have someone like Jack." she said quietly. I could sense that Laurelyn had an affection for Jack that went deeper than spending a few days with him. Something had happened between them, something important. Perhaps something like what Jack was doing for Mary and I myself, helping us to get away.

Laurelyn was kind enough to set up a spare cot for herself, leaving Mary and me to kip on her bed. "Jack usually sleeps on the cot, if that's where he manages to aim himself before passing out." she said with a grin, pulling off her dress shamelessly and crawling into bed in her shift. Given that Mary and I didn't have a change of clothes, Laurelyn had given us each a spare night gown. It seemed that she got most of what she needed to support herself from the pub and had an endless wardrobe to share. We spoke for about another hour before Mary dropped off into dainty snores. It was then that Laurelyn and I decided to call it a night.

The next day, Jack stood impatiently in the pub as Mary and I hurried to get dressed. He had informed us that it was half past noon, and we'd slept away half the day. He was rather upset about this, as today was a beautiful day for sailing and the Commodore was sure to be hot on our tail. I, being the Governor's daughter, was not someone who would be easily let free to do as I pleased.

"If that whelp Turner isn't coming after you, rest assured that bloody Norrington is. Yer father will have seen to that." Jack grumbled, looking as if he'd spent the good portion of last night drinking. Which, obviously, he had.

I lowered my eyes. "I'm sorry Jack - I never should have come. I'm putting both you and your crew in grave danger…perhaps Mary and I should stay here until the Commodore comes -"

"No!" both Jack and, oddly enough, Laurelyn declared loudly and then stopped to glance at each other. "I mean - Christina, once someone's a part of me crew, 's my job as Captain -" he drew himself up fondly, and Laurelyn smiled warmly at him "- to see that they're protected as such. 'Sides, my ship likes ye." Jack said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. I looked quizzically at Laurelyn.

"Don't look at me, Miss Swann, I just don't want a Guv'ner's daughter in my shop!" she teased. I grinned.

"Well, missies, it seems like we should be off. Are ye sure ye won't join us, Laurelyn-love?" Jack asked. Laurelyn smiled sadly, "No, Jack, but you know I'll always be waiting for you here." she said, and he nodded.

"But ye know, I could use a good seamstress on the Pearl -"

Jack narrowly missed the boot that Laurelyn hurled at his head.

Once aboard the Pearl it took longer that I thought to make leave. We had to wait for the members of the crew to arrive - and they arrived all at different times and in various states of dress, or, occasionally, undress. It seemed obvious to me that the crew had indeed 'made merry upon Tortuga' - even Anamaria! She heaved a contented sigh and crept up between Mary and myself, wrapping an arm about each of our shoulders. "So - how was yeh two virgins' night?" she asked, without a trace of embarrassment. I rolled my eyes and shrugged off her shoulder, while Mary just looked scandalized.

"I tell ye, yeh don't know what yer missin' out on, ye two great Vestals! But I suppose, Princess, yer waitin' fer dear William, eh?" she asked, goading me. I said nothing and Gibbs, who I noticed was aboard the ship again, gave Anamaria a blatant disapproving glare. He widened his eyes to something over my shoulder.

"Well, look here, men - and women -" Jack amended hastily from behind me as someone stumbled aboard the Pearl. I heard him clap someone on the back roughly. "It seems we have a stowaway!"

A/N: There ya go, eleven pages! Enjoy! Now, I'm off to the Harry Potter universe!


	18. Homecoming

Disclaimer: This is the second time I'm posting this story, since it got removed from the site for reasons known to me...anyways, since I have a hunch that it MIGHT have been the "chat/script" format of my past disclaimers, I'm going to have to do away with all the fun disclaimer and be boring. I have to conform and say that I own nothing related to Pirates of The Caribbean and in fact the only things I do own fiction-wise are the characters that I come up with. bows

Summary: Christina and Will are now engaged. Yay!!! So then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after, right?…Not quite.

A/N: Chapter 18 - wow, this story is catching up with TYO. I think I'm making up for lost time. Read and review, por favor?

Elizabeth had indeed spent the better part of the night Christina left crying in her room, and no one came in to bother her. In her mind she kept replaying how Will had glared at her, the ice in his gaze had cut her to the core, made her feel like she had indeed been wrong about everything - that Will had been truthful when he told her that he had never loved her, not really. She cried because he had as good as told her that he couldn't be happy with her, that he wouldn't be happy with her. She wanted him to know that she would do everything she could to make him happy, and she tried to prove it by kissing him…isn't that what he wanted, for eight years? To be allowed to kiss her? To not worry about propriety, to call her Elizabeth instead of 'Miss Swann'. Wasn't it what she had dreamed about for years, to one day be Mrs. Turner? Why would he deny her this, this one thing that could make her the happiest woman in the world?

Will Turner loved her, she was certain of it. He had smiled at her, hadn't he? She had taken that for a yes…and she had waited for so long for him, they both had waited so long. He couldn't possibly change his mind so swiftly, could he?

And yet it had been nearly two weeks since he'd gone off following that wretched sister of hers. Christina was not someone who would usually be considered competition for Elizabeth Swann, and all of Port Royal knew it. Elizabeth was sure that even Christina knew it, and that was probably why they had such a strained relationship. Because, and Elizabeth was certain that she wasn't be conceited when she thought this way, Elizabeth was more of the perfect example of a proper woman of the 1700's. Elizabeth was tall and fair, with dark blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was thin and demure and cared for womanly things, such as clothing and jewelry. Aside from having to defend herself from time to time when she was captured by pirates, Elizabeth Swann was not a violent person. She was polite and attended the many dinner parties that her family was invited to, and danced with whatever suitor asked her to, and when it came to rejecting their proposals for marriage she was never nasty about it - in fact, it was very rare that she rejected them personally. Usually she got her father to write a note - who would dare to oppose the Governor, anyway?

And Elizabeth had proper maidenly fear of such things that Christina seemed to enjoy. Elizabeth was never taught how to fight with a sword - the very idea was preposterous to her, she wasn't even aware the women _could_ swordfight in the first place! She never snuck out of the house to an unwed man's house, being unwed herself as it would cause people to talk. She never went out of the house unaccompanied by a maid of some sort. She didn't like horseback riding, the big animals frightened her even though she could admit that when she swallowed her fear she would probably be a respectable rider.

She had learned to read and write as was expected of a woman of her station as it was a privilege to learn how to read and write. But she never particularly enjoyed it - in what situation would she be asked her opinion of a book? She never talked back to man, it was not seemly for a woman to do so, and doing so could result in a beating if one talked back to the wrong man. In fact, the only time Elizabeth had ever taken a stand was when Jack Sparrow was about to be hanged. She supposed that that was a big enough event, but as it was her only one, she decided to ignore it.

Christina was the opposite of Elizabeth in every way imaginable. She had dark hair and olive skin that she never bothered to keep out of the sun, so she would, Elizabeth imagined, be as dark as the common townspeople by now. Her hair was never arranged in a way that it could stay, it was always half out of whatever style that Mary had put it in, and the powder that they wore never seemed to stay on Christina's face either, if she ever actually decided to put it on. That was not attractive in the high aristocratic society in which the Swann's lived - but, Elizabeth reminded herself, Will was not from a high aristocratic society. She shrugged, also reminding herself that the women of nobility were there to set an example of beauty that others could aspire to. Of course Will would not choose someone so like a commoner when he had Elizabeth - vastly considered the most beautiful woman in Port Royal - who loved him as well.

Christina had eyes so light hazel that they were almost yellow - like cat eyes, a witch's eye color, Elizabeth reflected. Christina was not as thin, either, and didn't seem to care too much if she was or wasn't. She didn't care, either, about clothes or jewelry, except for the black pearls that Jack Sparrow had given her. Christina wouldn't stop wearing the pearls even when their father had scolded her for it, calling them 'the heathen pearls'. Christina had, in fact, brushed off her father completely, and had continued by brushing off his reprimand as well.

Maybe her sister was a witch. Elizabeth admonished herself at the thought - there was no way the woman who Elizabeth had lived with for twenty years could be a witch. Christina had many faults, but devil-worship was not among them, of that Elizabeth was sure. She was surprised that she could think such a thing, considering how dangerous it was for anyone to be considered a witch. The punishment, if convicted, as like to that of a convicted pirate. Death, and nothing less.

No, Elizabeth decided, Christina was not a witch. Perhaps she had the same charm that their mother did, then. Mrs. Swann was beautiful, but not in the aristocratic way. Christina was almost the spitting image of their mother, despite what the portrait that Governor Swann had ordered to be painted portrayed. Mrs. Swann was not the blonde, pale, coifed lady in the portrait that hung in the den. No…she was as dark haired as her eldest daughter, and Christina had inherited her mother's bad habit of running away. If someone like the entirely apposite Governor Swann could fall in love with that type of woman, there was no reason why Will couldn't.

Elizabeth had spent the two weeks since Christina ran away in misery. She and her father had barely spoken to each other, and despite Elizabeth's popularity in Port Royal, it was only with the men who would consider themselves her suitors. The noble women of Port Royal didn't like Elizabeth much, they felt threatened by her - at least that is what her father assured her. It was very lonely, Elizabeth thought, but she realized that they at least made an effort to talk to her, as false as it might have been. They ignored Christina completely except to look at her as if she was a rather large bug that had flown in.

But Christina had other - better - friends, Elizabeth realized. Mary was closer to Christina that Elizabeth ever had been. Anita, the cook's assistant, respected Christina. Linda, the newest maid, was fifteen and barely knew anyone, but Elizabeth was bitterly sure that she would come to look up to Christina even though she was the worst example of a noble lady that could be found anywhere.

Christina was also best friends with Will. For eight years they'd been best friends. This bothered Elizabeth more than anything else that her sister did. That she could have the audacity to sneak out right under their father's nose and befriend the boy that Elizabeth had fallen so easily in love with - and then not tell Elizabeth that he had felt the same way about her! To never once mention it! And they called her, Elizabeth, selfish! Her sister was no better, and yet had no such accusations made.

But, Elizabeth realized, Christina was also very much in love with Will at the same time. Elizabeth couldn't imagine being in love with someone who didn't love her back - someone who loved someone else entirely, and then on top of it all didn't even realize that she loved him! Elizabeth felt a rush of pity for her sister.

Maybe she had been wrong in kissing Will. But how could it be so wrong, when it felt like something she'd been waiting to do since she knew what kissing was? His hands had been on her waist, they fit there perfectly it seemed. But they had been pushing her away, now that she thought about it. He wasn't supposed to push her away.

Then again, he wasn't supposed to have proposed to her sister, either.

Elizabeth sighed, lying on her bed and hugging a pillow to her. It seemed so very unfair that Will had gone off to save her sister. Maybe he felt like he had to, as it was partly his fault that she ran away in the first place. Maybe he would realized that it really was Elizabeth he loved, and perhaps Christina would be angry enough that she wouldn't want him anyway. He'd never given her a ring, after all, so nothing was set in stone. And he'd just bring Christina back to Port Royal - maybe their father would find a suitable man to wed Christina to - and Will would love Elizabeth. And Christina would be happy too, safe in a suitable marriage. She would learn to become a proper lady, with none of this sword fighting the Commodore and what not. She would learn to be a proper wife, and she would be happy. And maybe, finally, they could act like sisters instead of rivals. Elizabeth would never admit how she envied the freedom that Christina seemed to carry with her wherever she went. Christina might complain about being caged in, might say that Port Royal was her corset or what not, but at least she was brave enough - or careless enough - to speak her mind. It was very rare that Elizabeth ever did something like that. Her first taste of the freedom that Christina possessed was when she was captured by pirates, and her propriety mattered for very little. Elizabeth supposed that it was something remnant of being the younger sister, but she often felt like she could look up to Christina for never allowing herself to be inhibited by the society that she landed in. But Elizabeth would much rather be liked than scorned, even if people merely pretended to like her, or liked her only because she was pretty and rich.

It wouldn't matter once Will got back. Of that, Elizabeth was certain.

In front of me I saw Mary's eyes widen as she spotted who was behind me. I closed my eyes and swallowed, hoping against hope that it wasn't who I knew it must be. I waited, trying to get up the nerve to turn around, and at the same time forbidding myself not to. But, it seems, I can't control my limbs because ever so slowly, I turned and found myself face to face with -

"Will." I said softly, breathlessly, and hating how my voice sounded so childish at the same time. I felt many things at the same time, and I'm surprised that my brain or my heart didn't explode right then from the rush of thoughts and emotions that bombarded me. I was relieved, maybe because deep down I was expecting this or preparing myself for it, as doubtful as it was that Will would come after me. I was angry and indignant because here standing before me was the man who kissed my sister - whom he swore to me that he didn't love. I was sad, wondering if he was here just to take me back to Port Royal - which I wouldn't let him do, under any circumstances whatsoever! - and force me to watch his and Elizabeth's happy reunion. I was extremely happy, thinking that maybe he did love me, and he came here to tell me so and to apologized once again. I was frightened, worrying that if he did apologize and say that he loved me what would I do? My hand flew up to my chest, feeling through the fabric that Laurelyn had given me the claddagh ring that my father had given me when he beseeched me not to run away from love. I had put it on a chain and wore it with me, not feeling like I could part with it even if I wanted to. There was something poignant about the way my father explained what it meant, and I was nursing the hidden hope that maybe someday I'd find someone who I could give it to, who would be the claddagh for me. Who would love me as both a friend and a lover, and who would be always loyal to me. My fingers tightened around the metal band, the points of the crown of loyalty biting into my fingers.

"Christina," Will said softly, his eyes never leaving mine, and I was loathe to look away. Because looking away would make it as if _I_ had done something wrong. No. But his voice nearly undid me and I came to terms then with exactly how much I loved this man, even as reluctant as I was to admit it. I swallowed hard again and let my hand drop loosely to my side, still feeling the sting of the metal crown in my flesh. The crown of loyalty.

Indignation won out in the end.

"What are you doing here, Will? Did Elizabeth send you? Does she want me to be her Maid of Honor? Because you can go right back to Port Royal and tell her I'd rather eat a sea slug than be a bridesmaid at your bloody wedding!"

"What are you talking about, Christina?" Will asked quietly, having the audacity to look hurt. I could have screamed. "Elizabeth and I aren't getting married."

Joy…I struggled to keep the scowl on my face even though his words had made such joy erupt in me. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yet. You aren't getting married yet. But its just a matter of time - even if you lead me back to Port Royal under the pretenses - the obviously false pretenses - of its me that you love, both of us know that sooner or later you'll find your way back to Elizabeth's lips!"

Will looked like I had slapped him. "Christina, please." he said weakly. I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring. "Please what? What do you want Will, why did you come here? If Elizabeth didn't send you was it my father? Or did you want the glory of saving both the Governor's daughters from bad, scary pirates?" I spat. Jack, I noticed, could barely contain his smile.

"DO YOU FIND THIS ENTERTAINING, SPARROW?" I bellowed, losing my mind completely. He shrugged. "Actually, I do. A bit, love, just a bit. See, Gibbsie here and I had a bit of a bet going on…"

"A bet."

"Yeah… and I'm not going to hide it because I have nothin' to be ashamed of. Yeh too, Gibbs, buck up there, she's just a woman and she wont hurt you…Gibbs and I decided that we can't let such a sweet couple as ye and dear William stay separated long." I narrowed my eyes at him, completely not comprehending.

"And Will, well, he's about as predictable as old Norrington - who's probably coming for ye, too, Mary-belle - decent folk usually are predictable. And I knew and Gibbs knew that he'd come lookin' for ye, Miss Christina. And since lovely little Turner's father was a close friend of mine I decided I'd do a favor to old Bootstraps spawn and help him out a little."

I stared at Jack. My mouth must have been hanging open because he came over and quite blatantly chucked me under the chin, sneering a bit at the scowl on Will's face as he did so. "Don't ye be glaring at me, boy, I'm the one who got ye reunited with yer bonnie lass. It'll do ye good to be grateful." Jack snapped.

"There's nothing to be grateful about." I said nastily, pushing Jack's hand away. "You -_ both _of you - betrayed me! And Jack, I trusted you to take me away from Port Royal -"

"Love, ye are away from Port Royal." Jack said smartly. I groaned. That was right, I was away from Port Royal. But I had expected to be taken away from Will by being taken away from Port Royal. And here he was, spoiling my plans. And a little part of me was ecstatic that here he was, spoiling my plans.

"I didna' betray you in the slightest, love, and I'm hurt that ye could think I did. Ol' Jack is an honorable man -"

"As honorable as an old sea-dog can be, Cap'n." Gibbs put in helpfully.

"Aye." Jack nodded. "But yeh see, Miss Christina, you said to take you away from Port Royal, not those inhabiting it. And if the son of my late friend Bootstrap - rest his soul - needs to find the love of his life, who am I to stand in his way, eh?"

"Aye!" the crew said. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Infuriating pirates.

"What's - what's that about the bet, then, Jack?" I asked, struggling to keep myself calm. I really wanted to smack Jack - I was probably the only woman on the planet who hadn't done so yet - and then hit Will really hard as well. And then kiss him.

"Ah, the bet. Well, Gibbs is loathe to explain it, the scalawag. Gibbs thought ye'd burst into tears at the sight of pretty William here, but I explained to him that ye'd more likely scream yerself hoarse. And I was right, pay up Gibbs." Jack said, walking over to him. I frowned even deeper.

"And yeh two lovebirds - get below and do whatever screaming ye need to down there, me crew doesn't need to hear it." Jack said. The crew looked sorely disappointed, as if all they really wanted was to hear whatever row Will and I were going to have. I walked to the cabins without looking once at Will, hearing Jack say that Mary would stay above with him.

"Just stay off my bed, Princess." Anamaria hissed wickedly at me as I wrenched open the door to the cabins and hurled myself down. I heard Will drop in behind me and heard him close the door. I suddenly felt a bit panicked, as if there wasn't enough room for me to breathe. I turned around and hugged my arms tightly around myself, staring up at him.

I didn't realize how much I truly missed seeing his face. He looked as if he hadn't had a good shave in the days since I'd run away, and the small mustache and goatee that he usually had was now accompanied by shadowy hair around the rest of his face. Contrary to popular belief, it was actually quite good looking in a dirty, rugged sort of way. I glared at him even more, upset that he could come after me looking so wonderful. How I was I supposed to stay mad at him?

Then the sight of him kissing Elizabeth made its way into my mind and I realized that before I was sad, and now I was just angry. I loathed his presence with everything I could.

"What do you want, Will?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious? I want you, Christina, to be my wife." he countered, frowning at me. I laughed. "Sounds familiar. Isn't that right? Well, you should head on back to Port Royal, because this time around I'm going to say no."

Will looked as if he had expected this. "Well, then I intend on joining Jack's crew." he said. I blanched. "_What?_" I had certainly not been expecting that. Will shrugged, leaning against the pole of one of the bunks. "Jack said that one of his men decided he wanted to stay at Tortuga. I'm going to take his place." Will said, as if it had nothing to do with me at all.

"You can't _do_ that William!" I shouted. I could not even imagine what it would be like to have Will as a crewmate on the Pearl. Having to sleep in the same room as him - and Jack would probably be nice enough to give us bunks next to each other - and to be around him day after day with him looking the way he did and asking me to marry him. But, I noticed, he hadn't said he loved me. Not yet.

"Of course I can, Jack already signed me as one of his newest crew members." Will said, imitating me and crossing his arms.

I stared at him, calculating. Gone was the Will who had stumbled upon the deck, looking at me apprehensively. "Fine," I said coolly, uncrossing my arms and staring at him triumphantly. "I'm going to stay at Tortuga, then."

"You can't." Will said grimly.

"Of course I can, William, what, is a big man like you going to stop me?" I sneered. He narrowed his eyes at me, a flash of hurt caressed his features before it was skillfully tucked away. I didn't remember Will being able to so easily hide what his felt, but I suppose everyone can change even in the short time slot of two weeks. I know I certainly did.

"I mean, you can't. We've set sail already, and Jack's not going to stop back at Tortuga - Commodore Norrington could be waiting for him there." Will explained. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, desperate to find another way off this ship.

"Besides," Will said softly, "you wouldn't leave Mary here."

In my rage I heard him said "you wouldn't leave _me_ here" and I glared at him. "What are you talking about, Will, of course I could leave you here! I left you at Port Royal didn't I? Do you think that you are so important to me that I can't live without you? Well, I proved you wrong, didn't I? I _don't_ need you, Will Turner!" I shouted. He looked surprised and then his hurt showed more clearly than it had before.

"You're lying." he said pointedly, taking a step toward me. I took a step back, fixing a look of loathing back on my face. It had slipped off when I heard the certainty in his words - surely he couldn't know me so well that he could see right through me when I was screaming and beside myself.

"I heard what you said in Laurelyn's shop." he said softly, not taking another step but I moved back all the same. "You - what?" I asked hoarsely, knowing full well what I had said to Laurelyn concerning Will.

"You said that you still loved me…that you always would. So you are lying - aren't you?" Will added, looking furious with himself at the slight desperation in his voice. I overlooked it completely, thinking about all the ways I would skin Laurelyn alive next time I saw her.

I looked away suddenly, willing tears not to come into my eyes. Yes, I loved him. I loved him with everything I had, and I was willing to forgive him, but for my pride. I thought back to after the storm when I had told Jack that some things were more important than pride…was love more important, then? Of course it was, that I knew. But if I agreed to be with Will now I would always be wondering whether or not he was still in love with my sister. If I agreed for the second time to become Will's wife and we did indeed return to Port Royal, would I have to constantly wonder if Will was being faithful to me or not?

I met his eyes solemnly, and kept my face a mask. "No, I'm not lying." I said, not tearing my eyes away even when Will looked away and pressed a hand to his eyes. "Go back to Port Royal, Will." I said tiredly, brushing past him and walking back up to the deck.

Already I was forming a plan in my mind - why return to Port Royal when we could stay here? I would tell Will that yes, I was lying, and yes, I would marry him so long as we didn't go back to Port Royal. As long was we could stay here, on the Pearl, or find some other town to make our lives in far away from Elizabeth. But I thought of Mary, as valiant as she was trying to be upon the Pearl, and I knew that the sea was not for her. I knew that she was torn up with missing Commodore Norrington and staying here mostly because of her loyalty to me, and perhaps her fear of knowing that he could hate her. Even if she didn't love him, the sea was not for her.

Nor, I realized, was it for me. I could perhaps stay out here longer than Mary. Forever even, like my mother - but then, I didn't know if she had sailed away forever or if she had found another town to settle down in - but the sea would always be just a second home. Port Royal, as much as I hated to admit it, would always be home for me. And if we dropped Mary off at Port Royal, there was no way I could stand never seeing her again, not even for Will. And my father, as blustering as he is, loves me and I know that. I couldn't deliberately stay away forever, hurting him when the old wounds of my mother's departure still weighed heavy on his soul.

I saw the crew giving me odd looks, Anamaria looking sympathetic, and Jack looking knowing. I walked past them all, ignoring them, and made my way up the rigging to sit in the crow's nest. Mary was there, waiting for me, but we didn't need to talk. We stood looking down at the crew, watching as they ran busily to and fro. I saw Will walk up from the cabins and talk to Jack, and suddenly I was petrified that he'd be leaving. As much as I wanted to stay that I could bear it if he left, I knew that I wouldn't be able to. And I thought for a minute that if he really did love me as much as I loved him, then my leaving must have been a terrible thing to endure. And I felt horrible for maybe having put him through that, if indeed he loved me.

It seemed ironic to me that as soon as we'd planned to marry all we did was hurt each other. Engagement was supposed to be exciting and nerve-wracking - we were supposed to be setting a date for the wedding, and I was supposed to be fretting over the style of my dress and how I would wear my hair. Will was supposed to be getting taunted by his friends over the imprisonment of marriage, and though he would pretend to be scared witless, he'd be excited. I was supposed to be picking out plates and flowers, and in a perfect situation, Elizabeth would be right there with me, rehearsing my vows and suggesting names of children. Instead, I hadn't even gotten a ring and Will had been kissing Elizabeth. And I had run away.

If Will was telling Jack that he wanted to leave now, I knew that I'd never see him again. If he was listening to me and going back to Port Royal, I knew that I'd never summon up the courage to go after him. I scrambled down from the crow's nest and ran up to him.

"You're not leaving?" I asked, grabbing his arms so he would turn around. I brushed my hair out of my eyes impatiently. I didn't see the smug smile on Jack's face, or the wistful smile that taunted Anamaria. Will looked surprised. "I thought that's what you wanted me to do?" he said, perplexed.

"I know but -"

"But no, I'm -"

We said at the same time. I stopped, my stomach feeling like it was full of caterpillars who were restlessly weaving the baskets that would hold them until they were butterflies. Will smiled and the ship lurched and I stumbled, not paying attention. He grabbed my arm, steadying me, and it seemed like the ship became suddenly calm. I swallowed and touched the claddagh ring that lay above my heart, brushing his hand off my arm nervously.

"Well, we've set sail. So you can't go." I said, shrugging.

"And neither can you." Will answered. I licked my lips and nodded, turning away. Jack caught my eye and put his hand over his heart, as if he was touched. I glared at him and crawled my way back up to the crow's nest, sitting in a comfortable silence once again with Mary. I watched her, and it seemed to me that her brow was furrowed more often than not. She was always squinting in the sun and pulling her hat low over her eyes. I could tell that as much as she loved me and wanted to stay here for me, and as much as she found Jack's company amusing, eventually she'd want to go back to Port Royal. Eventually she'd have to leave, and the only question was how quickly that time would come.

Even if Will and I decided to sail for years, if we did make up and stay together, if I did agree once more to be his wife; even if for years I was afraid to go to Port Royal because of Elizabeth's presence, I knew that I wouldn't be able to stay on the Pearl forever either. No, sooner or later, I'd have to return to Port Royal as well.

A/N: Drama, drama, drama. Hope you enjoyed it!

-Crystyna


	19. Your Windless Guilt

Disclaimer: This is the second time I'm posting this story, since it got removed from the site for reasons known to me...anyways, since I have a hunch that it MIGHT have been the "chat/script" format of my past disclaimers, I'm going to have to do away with all the fun disclaimer and be boring. I have to conform and say that I own nothing related to Pirates of The Caribbean and in fact the only things I do own fiction-wise are the characters that I come up with. bows

Summary: Christina and Will are now engaged. Yay!!! So then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after, right?…Not quite.

A/N: This chapter was so hard to write…and I really wanted to write, I had to write, to keep my sanity - or what's left of it…because today (07.27.04) was the last day that my best friend's in NY. So, defiantly, I plowed on…if this chapter totally sucks its because I spent the day trying not to cry and listening to 80's rock songs continually…Not that there's anything wrong with 80's rock songs, of course. P

The days that followed after Will joined the crew of the Black Pearl seemed to me that they were filled with more turmoil than the night that the storm struck. Will was not always subtle in his efforts to get me to say I would marry him, and Jack did indeed give Will the bunk right above mine. I did my best to ignore him as he took off his shirt and climbed up into the bunk, turning to Mary and trying desperately to start a conversation, my helpless eyes sliding over to him.

And he knew it too, the bastard! And because he knew it he took his time climbing up onto the bunk, sometimes stopping to chat with one of the other crew members - or worse, with me! Mary did her best to continue our strained conversation but to no avail, and she settled instead for looking at me sympathetically and shooting Will a half-hearted glare every now and then.

The one person who actually stood up for me was unexpected. Anamaria, one night witnessing my discomfort, walked up to Will and gave him a shove. "Budge up there, ye great carcass." she said nastily, winking at me. Will was so surprised that he actually heeded her, climbing into his tiny bunk without another word or glance in my direction.

Jack was not so helpful. He often assigned Will and myself to scrub the deck together, and no matter how vile a look I tossed him, Jack merely shrugged. I was getting quite tired of his little passes at being Cupid and told him so, but Jack merely shrugged once again.

It was often quite hot scrubbing the deck as the sun was often beating down unrelentingly. I had undone the stitches that Laurelyn had put on the sleeves of the shirts she made, but it did little to make the chore of scrubbing the expansive deck of the Pearl any more comfortable. Will, being a man, simply tossed his shirt aside, but through careful determination I was able to, for the most part, ignore him. At least until he saw fit to bump into me rather inappropriately.

"Damn it William if you must go around without a shirt could you at least take care not to touch me!" I shouted, feeling my already sunburned face get hotter as a few members of the crew chortled gleefully. After having been denied the riot that they surely thought would take place the day that Will arrived, they were eager for any chance of another. Even Gibbs stopped overseeing the crewmember's work to watch.

Will shrugged. "My apologies, Christina, I didn't know that you were so proper that you couldn't stand a man to touch you - even accidentally." he said. I glowered.

"Not all men, Will, just you." I snarled, throwing the rag that I was using back into the bucket full of fresh water and scouring soap. Some of the water splashed up onto his face, I was happy to notice.

"What are you saying, Christina?" Will said nastily, also standing up. What did he think I was saying?

"Oh ho, William, are you questioning my honor? Shall I remind you that it was not _I_ who was unfaithful, and you have no right whatsoever to impugn my good name!" I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Will looked properly abashed. "I know - I'm sorry Christina." he said, reaching to touch my arm. I wrenched my it back, glaring up at him.

"You have no right to touch me, accidental or no. Not after what you did." I whispered. Will looked like I'd physically hurt him, clenching his jaw and glaring at me.

"Do I really deserve this treatment from you, Christina? I said I was sorry - bloody hell, I came all this way to be with you!" he spat.

"First of all, if you hadn't kissed my sister in the first place you wouldn't have had to come all this bloody way to be with me, because you'd already be _with_ me." I sputtered, so angry now that I could hardly see. It was one thing if he wanted to come all this way to follow me, even to join Jack's crew and sleep shirtless in the bunk above me every night. I could control myself, I wasn't the type to be so glamoured by his half-naked body that I just wouldn't be able to contain my attraction to him. But it was quite another if he would brush up against me "accidentally" to, oh, I don't know, forget my own propriety - even as close to non-existent as it was on this ship - and hurl him down to the bunks where something less-than-innocent could transpire.

"Second of all, yes you deserve all this and worse! And thirdly, don't flatter yourself, William, you are not as irresistible as all that, shirtless or no." I continued, kneeling back down and scrubbing the deck with a vengeance. Will did the same after a moment, looking at me from time to time. I was practically shaking with anger, trying to quell the dirty little voice in my head that was surveying all this with frank amusement, and began to scrub even faster in an attempt to get to the opposite side of the ship.

After a good three quarters of an hour I realized that the ship, as large as it was, was not big enough to set between myself and Will. Evidently he thought that I wasn't skilled enough to swab a deck, because he followed me, cleaning over the parts I'd just finished. I never knew that Will could be so infuriating - or so childish.

The first few days after Will had arrived had been tense - I'd hardly said anything to anyone and Will had taken care to leave me alone for the most part - perhaps thinking that I'd come around of my own accord. But now, a good week since he'd been here, I was furious that I'd broken down so easily the first day he'd been here; I'd practically leapt from the crow's nest to ensure that he wouldn't be leaving. Will seemed to take that as a good sign, and after it was obvious that I wasn't going to be the first to make an attempt at repairing what was left of our relationship, he took it upon himself to make my life a living hell.

I still hadn't been let in on the little trick that Laurelyn had played on me, or if it was indeed all her doing. Jack, I knew, was in on it, and so was Gibbs. But whether or not Laurelyn had been aware that Will had been given a hiding spot in her shop to listen in on me, I still didn't know.

If she was in on the little ploy, she did a spectacular job of acting like she hadn't had a clue - or maybe it was because I was so reluctant to believe that Will would indeed come after me made it so easy to talk to her about him. Didn't Jack warn me of he would? Was he giving me a heads-up? And why didn't I have the sense to listen?

Either way, Will was here now and there was nothing to be done unless I wanted to have him thrown off the ship and into the open sea, or if I wanted to jump off myself. Neither seemed entirely pleasant, but if Will kept antagonizing me the latter seemed inevitable.

After another fifteen minutes of being hunted down and backed into a corner by my former fiancé, I stood up and clenched the rag with shaking hands, fantasizing that it was Will's neck I could be twisting. It was amazing how much I wanted to throttle him! So angry was I that I didn't even stop to think of the words that were making their way out of my mouth.

"God damn it, Will, how would you like it if I walked around shirtless!"

At this, Jack gave a bark of laughter, and Will looked away - obviously the words I'd said were not the words he had expected. Good, I thought, let him see how uncomfortable it is!

"Christina, love, I have a feeling that our eunuch would not mind that so much." Jack said happily. I said nothing, looking at Will, who was rather red about the non-existent collar. He met my eyes and I felt my own face flush. I threw down the rag and ran down to the cabins, throwing myself onto the bunks and screaming in frustration.

I didn't know how long I stayed in the cabins, the darkness of its rather dank interior was a blessing to my overheated skin and I found a pail of fresh water and a rag to wet and place on my skin to cool down. I was sitting with my back to the entrance of the cabins when I heard the door open and slam closed as someone landed quietly behind me. I groaned.

"Go _away_, Will!"

"Well, love, as dashing as young William is, I am certainly glad that I'm not him with the tone of yer voice." Jack's voice said from behind me. I turned around angrily. "Well, seeing as how you are as hell-bent as Will is on making me miserable, I'm not as ecstatic to see you, either!" I said defiantly, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest, a gesture that was becoming a habit for me. Jack snorted. "Luckily enough for me, then, Christina, you are not the Captain of this ship - I am. And as Captain, I can go wherever I want and make anybody as miserable as I please." he said. I gritted my teeth.

"Is there anything you wish me to do, Captain?" I said, keeping the bitterness in my voice to a minimum. If he wanted to lord the fact that he was Captain Sparrow over my head, so be it. I wouldn't be defiant, then, as that's what really pleased him, it seemed.

Jack's gaze softened as he looked at me.

"What I wish for ye to do is to make up with that boy, love." he said. I narrowed my eyes at him, hardly visible in this darkness.

"Luckily enough for me, then, Captain, while you do control this ship and where it goes, and who it picks up, and who your crew members work with - you do not control the personal lives or emotions of your crew."

"Ah, Christina, don't ye know by now that you are more to me than just another paid crewmember?"

"I don't even _get_ paid."

"Yeah, well, Ol' Jack is doing ye a favor, isn't he?"

"Some favor, Jack!"

"And Will," Jack raised his voice to put an end to our bickering. "- well, I feel obligated to do what I can for the lad, as its partially my fault that he lost his father." Jack said, a note of sadness in his voice. I sighed and sat back down on the bunk, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"What did you think would happen when you invited Will back on this ship, Captain?" I asked. Jack sat down next to me and leaned forward. He didn't say anything for a long moment.

"I would swear it upon my ship, pet, that Will Turner loves ye." he said.

"So I'm told," I said darkly. "Funny way of showing it, eh? What, did he think -"

"He made a mistake, Christina, and ye should be grateful that kissing yer sister is all he did," Jack interrupted again. I stood up quickly, banging my head once again on the low bunk above mine, and swore.

"Jack Sparrow, I don't know if you think you are being helpful, but I'll have you know that you're not! Grateful! _I_ should be grateful to him! Because _all _he did was kiss my sister - that's enough, Captain, believe it or not - maybe not for a man like you who has a dozen whores at his beck and call; but it certainly is enough for me not to trust him anymore!" My voice broke.

"Do you know that Will's love for Elizabeth was my biggest fear? That Will had to assure me again and again that he didn't love her - that it was me he wanted! And I decided that I would believe him, that I would trust him. And there he goes, proving my fears right." I said softly. Jack stood up as well.

"Then why did he come after you?" he asked. I glared.

"Every man is a slave to his guilty conscience." I said harshly, chased by a man once again from a place where I thought I could find peace and be alone.

Days passed by slowly, and the ocean never seemed to get us anywhere. There were never any islands, never any birds, and the sun was as oppressive as ever. As beautiful as I found the ocean, I was starting to get bored and long for an island or maybe even a storm to break up the monotony.

"Ah, its 'cause yer young yet, Princess, when ye've sailed as many years as I have, ye'd know what a blessing even a windless day is." Anamaria said, clapping me on the shoulder and either ignoring or not seeing the wince that I made as she slapped my sunburned shoulders. I decided not to tell her that she was hardly older than I was myself.

Mary was given light tasks on the Pearl, often just staying by Jack and turning the wheel every now and then as Jack fumbled with his compass, clearly without any destination in mind. We hardly talked anymore, Mary and I, as I was often busy. Thankfully, Jack had found a speck of mercy in him and I wasn't always working alongside Will, who had found the courtesy to put a damn shirt on every now and then.

On a particularly vindictive windless day I was left remembering what happened the last time the ship was left still in the vast ocean. It was on the rescue mission for Elizabeth, and I had been challenged to three duels - one with Will, one with Anamaria, and one with Jack. From the sidelong looks and the mutterings of the crew, I knew that today wouldn't be a day for me to be left alone.

As if on cue, Jack burst out, "Ah, mates, the inactivity has me in a stupor - what say ye to a contest to break out of this slump?" The crew cheered, obviously this was staged, and I rolled my eyes.

"Any ideas, lads?" Jack asked. The crew was silent, but I was counting down the seconds that my name was mentioned.

"Let the Princess show off her skill once more!" Anamaria crowed, and I stared at her. "Traitor." I accused, but I hadn't been altogether too surprised. The crew cheered and I went down to the cabins to dutifully gather up my sword, stowing a dagger once again in my boot - boots that actually fit now, thanks to Laurelyn.

As I walked back up to the deck, Jack was surveying me with a rather guilty grin on his face. I narrowed my eyes at him and stole a glance at Will, who was looking a bit cheeky and nervous at the same time. I rolled my eyes, wondering what these two monkeys were up to know.

"It seems, Christina, that you have been challenged." Mary said meekly, a small smile playing on her lips too. I glared at her. Was _everyone_ against me? Was there no one who would help me stay away from Will?

I could only think of one person who would be willing to help me in this situation, and ironically that person was Elizabeth. She would certainly help me avoid Will - she would probably solve the problem by dumping me in the ocean.

"Challenged?" I said faintly, and knew that with the flush that crept into Mary's carefully kept pale face it was her idea for this challenge. It seemed to me that everyone on the planet was intent on betraying me in some way or another.

Jack, taking pity on Mary in a way that he never took pity on me said, in a loud voice so that everyone on the Pearl could here. "William Turner has challenged ye to a duel, Christina, do ye accept?"

Ah, giving me the chance to back down. Well, fat chance. If I was given an opportunity to beat Will into a pulp, why not take it, right?

"Oh, well, sure. It's not like I haven't beaten him before." I said rather snottily, tying up my hair with a feral grin. Jack chuckled at me. "There is a catch." he said, and I blinked.

"The winner gets to demand a prize from the his - or her - opponent." Mary said, turning even redder under my glare. Jack's grin widened.

"A prize." I repeated, deadpan. Jack nodded. "Will our competitors please state the prize they demand, should either win?" he asked. The crew was silent but there was a buzz of excitement. Or maybe it was just me.

Will looked at me, questioning. I sneered and inclined my head. "Oh, by all means, Will, honor me." I said spitefully, liking this less and less with every passing second. Will smiled and my heart flipped over and threatened to impale itself on my ribs.

"A kiss." Will said quietly, and the crew roared with laughter. Ah, the plot thickens, and the stakes rise. I swallowed hard, wishing that I hadn't agreed to this duel without asking what the prizes would be first. After a few moments pause, I gritted my teeth but said nothing, waiting for the crew to regain control of themselves.

"And you?" Will asked. I bit my lip, thinking. What could I say that would even this bet? What could I ask of him that would be as much of a slight to his pride as the prize he demanded of me?

"Never ask me to marry you again." I said coldly, raising my chin and ignoring the hurt in his eyes. Will looked surprised and was about to protest but Jack interrupted - something he was unnaturally good at.

"Fair enough. Out of the way, ye rodents!" Jack yelled at the crew. I held my sword and saluted Will grudgingly, and he did the same, his jaw clenched. "Ready?" came Mary's frail voice, out of the corner of my eye I could see her watching me nervously.

"Begin!" came Gibbs' rumbling shout. I stayed still, waiting for Will to advance. He did, and I mirrored him, retreated a step. I side-stepped and he kept his place in front of me, his eyes never leaving mine. I retreated another step, letting him take a step toward me but attacking while he was in mid-step. He backed up quickly, off balance, and I kept advancing until I had him with his back against the wall of the ship.

I smacked his blade harshly with my own, feeling the vibrations up my own arm and retreated, knowing how he would try to get himself out of a corner. Well, let him. For now. I let him come, and we fought in earnest now. He was better than I remembered, faster, and less predictable. I felt sweat beading on my forehead couldn't do anything to keep it out of my eyes. I felt my vision blurring and ran backwards a few steps, getting enough distance quickly enough that I would wipe at my eyes. Neither of us had managed to disarm the other, and we were fifteen minutes into the bout.

I could feel the air pressing in on my as it got hotter and hotter out, the sun glinting off the ocean like it was trying to distract me. Not that I needed much to be distracted, I kept thinking about the prize Will had demanded should I lose. What would I do, I wondered, allow myself to be made a spectacle of if I lost? Or would I dishonor the agreement made when I accepted the challenge, and run away from him? Either way, my defiantly maintained pride would be forfeit. Even if I had said no to this duel, it would have been seen as cowardice. I liked to think that nothing Will could do would frighten me, but the truth was that he could frighten me very easily. I had built up walls of bitterness and anger, but how would those walls hold up to a kiss from the man I love? Love was the bane of bitterness, even though it was from love which this bitterness had ultimately sprung from. Hurt caused by misplaced love is what had led me here, fighting with the man I should have married.

Minutes stretched out until I didn't know how long I had been slashing away, running up and lunging only to be parried out of the way, having to spin and leap to avoid being slashed. I could tell that Will was holding back, pulling his punches. I was too, not wanting to let loose as I had when I dueled with Anamaria. I wondered if maybe I didn't want to beat Will, if maybe I wanted to keep him asking for me. Maybe I was afraid that if he did stop asking me to marry him, eventually he'd ask to be dropped back off at Port Royal to ask someone who would say yes - regardless of whether or not he loved her. If he gave up on me I think it would hurt me more than it did when he kissed Elizabeth.

"Come on, Will!" I taunted breathlessly, and he bared his teeth and lunged, I parried narrowly and dashed up a few steps, skirting around some boxes and carefully aware of the ropes that lay scattered about dangerously. He followed me, attacking, and my arm was so tired by now that I wished I'd been more diligent in trying to be able to fight well with both arms, that way I could switch.

Not to mention that after the stress of these past few days and the lack of practice - teaching Mary didn't count because she hardly presented a challenge - I wasn't in very good shape to duel. And Will, who could not only fight with a sword but make them as well, had an advantage. That and the fact that he was a good deal stronger than I was - my one advantage was that I was fast, and right now, I wasn't making good use of that advantage.

"She wants to lose, look." I heard someone mutter and another chuckle good-naturally. That spurned the last bits of my energy I held in reserve and I attacked recklessly.

Will, with one well-placed swipe, knocked my sword out of my hand and sent it flying five feet away. I pulled the dagger out of my boot and held it in front of me. He looked less than surprised, aiming another hard swipe in the opposite direction and knocking my dagger out of my hand as well. He extended his arm, the point of his sword right over my heart. There was a faint smile on his sweaty face, his dark messy curls loose and flying around his head.

"Do you yield, Christina?" he asked hoarsely, anticipation written clearly in his features. I said nothing, only looked at his sword and then down at the deck, and finally meeting his eyes once again.

"Do you yield?" Jack barked. I glared at him and Mary, at all the crew, and then back at Will. I was sick and tired of being laughed at and betrayed, even in the slightest. I was sick of Jack playing matchmaker and Mary trying to do what she thought was best for me.

"Never!" I shouted, knocking Will's blade away with my own hand and cutting my palm open in the process, watching triumphantly as my own blood gathered thickly in my cupped palm and dripped down on the deck. I cradled my injured hand in its partner and heard Will drop his sword to the deck with a clang. He came toward me and grabbed me by the arm. I shrugged him off and glared.

"You think you'd pull one over on me, hmm, William?" I snarled. He didn't say anything, didn't even look angry. He stared at my hand and then up at me, as if seeing me for the first time.

"And you, Jack? Mary? I will no longer be some form of entertainment for you!" Jack looked shocked as well and Mary looked horrified. "Christina, your hand…" she said weakly. I glared at her, amazed that now she could show such concern when before she was so keen on getting me cornered. "What of it?" I asked, and felt at once ashamed, seeing the hurt look in her eyes. I could be mad at everyone else, even Will, but not Mary. She didn't ask to be dragged along, I'd asked her to come with me. She could do whatever she wanted to force me and Will together, but I could not be angry with her, the one person who was truly my friend even if she had odd ways of showing it. She hadn't meant to hurt me, that I knew.

"Turner's the winner." Gibbs said. I sighed wearily and held my hand against my shirt to stem the bleeding. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was considerably painful and it didn't seem to want to stop bleeding. That struck me as ironic as well, an almost perfect metaphor for my resentment and anger towards Will for hurting me so.

"They made an agreement, Jack." Anamaria said, looking at me without a trace of a smile. I opened my mouth in shock. Surely they didn't mean to -

"He named his prize." she continued pointedly.

Obviously they did mean to have Will kiss me on top of all this.

"Aye. And he shall have his prize." Gibbs now.

"Over my dead body!" I roared. The crew kept their laughter curiously quiet.

"He shall have his prize," said Jack loudly, glaring disapprovingly at Gibbs and Anamaria. "But not in front of the crew. Turner, ye will claim yer prize when ye see fit." Jack said, and the crew once again looked as if they had been denied a real treat.

"Listen here, _Captain_," I said sarcastically. "I am not some wench that can have anything demanded of her - I choose who I want to kiss and when and I do not wan-"

"Yeh agreed to this duel, young missy, and ye'll be held to that agreement." Gibbs said roughly, though not unkindly. I opened my mouth to protest but saw no point in it, once again turning around and fleeing to the cabins, which were obviously no longer a safe haven.

After a moment I heard as I knew I would heavy footsteps leading down to where I sat in the darkness, grasping a cloth tightly. "Christina," Will said softly and I closed my eyes, wishing I could ignore him. I didn't move.

He walked over to where I was sitting and knelt before me. I hardened my heart against this, still refusing to say anything. If he thought that he could propose to me right now!

He startled me, however, and took my hand. He held my wrist and I kept still, staring over his head at the wall. He unfolded my fingers gently and took the rag away, dipping it in water and gently cleaning the cut. I could feel his eyes making the same gentle patterns on my face and felt as though my heart would crack in two. I was too exhausted, or perhaps too stubborn, or maybe even reluctant to take my hand away.

"I'm sorry." he said softly and my eyes darted to see that he wasn't looking at me anymore, but instead at the cut on my hand. He brought it closer to his face and blew gently, drying what was left of the water droplets and leaving just a fresh red line across my palm. I felt myself tremble but if Will noticed, he didn't react. I took a deep breath and stared resolutely at the wall behind him once more.

Will took out a clean piece of cloth and began to gently wrap it around my hand, taking his time as if savoring the moment that I was with him and not fuming. He pulled tightly for a moment and I winced, sucking in a breath.

"Sorry," he said again. "Blacksmith's hands -" he broke off and even in the dim light I could see the flush that crept into his face. So he wasn't as crass as he liked to act. He was properly embarrassed of using the same line on me as he did my sister.

"I know they're rough." I whispered and he looked up. The regret I saw in his eyes made me want to cry, and I had so valiantly refrained from crying for so long. As he looked away I took a deep breath again and he continued to wrap my hand, tying a gentle knot by my knuckles.

He placed my hand back on my lap and raised himself up to sit on a chair opposite me. We sat in silence, a silence that was so oppressive that I was torn between giving in and crying or giving in and forgiving him, neither of which I particularly preferred to do. Just as I opened my mouth to say something he murmured softly, "I'll stop."

"You - what?"

"I'll stop asking you," he said, raising his eyes to meet mine. "If it makes you so unhappy, the thought of marrying me, then I'll stop." he said. I stared at him, not really hearing what he was saying. There was a firm resignation in his eyes and I knew that in a way he was giving up on me, or maybe he was giving me time. I wondered now if I had just killed all my chances of marrying this man and what would happen to us if he was on the ship. If he thought he knew my answer to the question he'd come to ask me, what was the point of him staying? Would he leave now that I'd said no, and he'd agreed to stop asking?

Will looked at me almost pleadingly, as if begging me to tell him that it was okay if he kept asking me, as if he wanted my permission to keep driving me crazy. I couldn't find any words to say and after a moment he got up and walked out of the cabins without another word.

I was left in the cool darkness tracing patterns on the cloth that bound my wounded hand and swallowing the lump in my throat that I finally realized was my pride.

A/N: It's 1:02 A.M. but I had to keep writing this chapter. I think it got better towards the end but its still not as good as I imagined it should have been…I want to say thank you to all the people who reviewed my story - this is the first story that I ever wrote that got over 200 reviews, and that means a lot to me. So, thank you all for reading my stories and taking the time to review, it really means so much! Special thanks to Laura, who came up with the title for the last chapter when I had a hard time deciding on one, and to Darma Druid (I'm sorry I haven't reviewed lately!), both of whom are writers that I really look up to. (Yes, you too Laura, you rock and you know it.)

Love,

Crystyna


	20. As Long As He Needs Me

[Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters that are recognizable from the movie.

A/N: I must say that I'm rather disappointed with myself. It took me far to long to repost all the chapters - something I should have (and could have) done in under an hour. But having a story removed was like a slap in the face. I work hard, as all writers do, at making sure that each chapter is as good as it could be, even though to me they are not at all as good as they should be. I'm ashamed to have been so thrown off by having this story removed. The week that I was unable to post should have been enough to regain my composure, in a way…But instead I held a grudge, a self-righteous boycott of the site…all because I had lost a few reviews. And because of that I realize that it is entirely to presumptuous for me to call myself a writer…a true writer would write for herself, not for the reviews that her chapters get. Writing is about freedom, about joy, about something that I can develop and get better at, I think, and in time I can be proud of for the words and stories themselves, and not for the reviews, as wonderful as they are. And writing is not about comparing the number of reviews one has, and using that to determine a writer's caliber. So I'm going to try to be a bit more mature (perhaps some of my characters should do so as well) and write without feeling injured or spiteful every time I see the number of reviews.

And so begins chapter 20.]

I don't know how long I sat staring at the hand that Will had bandaged to tenderly, but it must have been a considerable amount of time as Mary practically threw herself down the stairs, looking around as if worried that she'd find me dead.

"Christina!" she breathed, rushing over to me. She stopped before she reached me, looking at me hesitantly. "Are you very angry with me?" she asked meekly, and I looked up at her tone. It had been a very long time since I'd heard Mary use so timid a voice, especially around me. I bit my lip and paused for a few long moments before answering.

"I think I am a bit angry…not just at you, of course, but at nearly everyone up there!" I said, jerking a thumb angrily at where the rest of the crew were no doubt placing bets and wagering on how long it would be before I was with child or what not. I truly despise pirates.

"I'm so sorry, Christina -" Mary said, but I held up a hand. "I know you thought that you were helping me, I suppose you thought that it was in my best interests…"

"And what did you get out of it?" Mary moaned miserably, "You got your hand sliced open! I'm sorry, Christina, and I'll understand if you want to - to…dump me on an island filled with heathens or what not…"

I hid my smile, amazed that I could talk to her and act so composed when I was still bewildered as to what had just occurred between Will and myself. "Now, Mary, if I wanted justice, I would have to maroon the whole crew. And you know as well as I do that I can't sail this ship all by my lonesome." I said. Mary sniffled.

"So, what did you and Will talk about?" she asked suddenly, eyeing my hand with a sparkle in her eyes not caused by tears. I looked at her abruptly, wondering if she had been crying at all in the first place. She changed moods so rapidly, for a moment it was all I could do to sit and blink. Mary fixed me with a rather smug grin, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against a table casually. She looked the way Mrs. Dawson did when she overheard a particularly rancid piece of gossip. I gaped at her.

"Well, what did you talk about?" she prompted, playing with the ends of her hair leisurely, as if she was already quite sure of the outcome. As if her and Jack's little ploy with the duel could only have _one_ outcome, and that was for me and Will to make up.

"Did he demand his prize?" she said wickedly. I stood up angrily. "I will have you know that Will is more honorable than that - while he would go about kissing my sister behind my back, he wouldn't force himself upon me if that was not what I wished!" I said hotly, glaring at her with my hands on my hips. My injured hand stung terribly and I moved it with an aggravated sigh.

"Aye, Princess, but is that not what ye wish?" I heard Anamaria's low voice behind me and spun around as she came to stand next to Mary. They made a strange tableau as they stood opposite from me, Mary so pristine and pale looking like quite the proverbial angel, even if her hair was devil's red. And Anamaria, looking every part the deceitful and villainous gypsy, with her dark skin and hair and eyes, she was fixing me with a rather nasty grin.

"I beg your pardon!" I yelped. Anamaria's grin widened. Mary looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Don't act so innocent, Princess, yeh know as well as the I what the obligations of a wife are." she said.

"I am not his_ wife_." I growled, feeling blood rush to my face and loathing it. Anamaria opened her mouth to say more but I cut her off quickly, "And I cannot think of any man who would be stupid enough to take you as his wife, in this world or in the layers of hell!" I spat, and Mary's eyes widened. Anamaria scowled.

"Aye. And I can think of no man who would be good enough for me." she said. I raised an eyebrow haughtily. "Is that so? Funny, you did a splendid job of making sure _Captain_ Sparrow had no trouble from me the day after the storm." I murmured. Anamaria's visage darkened. "Yeh threatened mutiny." she said dangerously. Mary was looking between us with wide eyes.

"I did nothing of the sort and you know it."

"What else do ye call not following the Captain's orders, Princess?" Anamaria snarled.

"Must be hard for you, hmm, with Jack's affections so obviously elsewhere." I said through clenched teeth. I was speaking, of course, of Laurelyn, and Anamaria seemed to know that. She said nothing but stood as still as a stone with her hands clenched at her side. I smiled triumphantly and left both her and Mary standing there, brushing past Jack on the way up. He wheeled around and followed me right back up to the deck.

"What was that all about, love?" he asked, following me as I paced around. Involuntarily I looked for Will, but he was nowhere to be found. I whirled around and faced Jack.

"Where's Will?" I demanded. Jack's eyebrows rose and a smile made its way slowly onto his face. "Made up that quickly, did ye?" he asked. "Wouldn't have known it, the way that pup came storming out here…"

"Jack. Where. Is. Will?" I asked tightly, my eyes darting around the ship. The worst possible things jumped into my mind. What if I'd hurt him so much that he'd leapt from the Pearl? No, Will wasn't that stupid, he wouldn't have done that…but he looked ever so let down when I didn't say anything to him…but someone on the Pearl would have known if he did do something rash…unless he'd just snuck away...

"I understand ye'll be wanting to do some more makin' up with him, lass, but if ye'll just let me get a word in edgewise -"

"WHERE IS HE?" I shouted. Jack stopped in the middle of a word and looked at me, surprised. "He's right up in the crows' nest, love, lookin' a bit sulky but no worse for wear…" Jack said quietly. I took a deep breath and put a shaking hand to my eyes. "Of - of course he is. Up in the crows' nest. He's fine." I said, feeling stupid for even thinking that he would jump overboard just because of me.

"Love, what's wrong?" Jack asked, touching my arm gently and leading me into his office house. I walked in and looked around mutely. It was very different than Commodore Norrington's. For one thing, I'm willing to wager that I wont find an ivory-toothed comb or powder in here. Where Commodore Norrington's office was ritzy and reeked of pompous Royal Navy officer, Jack's was quite the opposite. There was maps scattered about and a good few - empty, I noticed - bottles of rum. Pushed up hastily against the wall and as messy as if it had never been made was Jack's bed, spare clothes and maps and books strewn across it. On his desk was a large quill and an ink well, and, as I walked closer I could see pieces of parchment with cramped spidery writing.

"Jack…you can write?" I asked, astonished. Just from looking at Jack Sparrow, you wouldn't think that he was the literary type. He stumbled far too much and slurred his words too often for him to seem a scholar. But as I gazed at his documents, notes on the islands he'd been to and the like, it seemed that he was.

"I'm a Captain, pet, it comes with the job description." Jack was saying. I smiled, thinking of how Commodore Norrington would be floored. "Well, Captain, it seems like you are a regular gentleman." I said softly, looking around his desk. On the wall was a sword that looked as if it was made of gold, and on his desk laying in a clay bowl were necklaces of the finest pearls I'd ever seen. Pink, white, gray, black, and yellow, they all sat tangled like snakes in the clay bowl that looked most out of place.

I looked up to see Jack with his eyebrow raised, he was watching me appraisingly. "Are ye going to tell me what happened, love?" he asked. I frowned. "Why? So you can plot behind my back with Mary and Anamaria about how you are going to get Will and I back together! I think not! I don't need you, or Mary, or Anamaria to be pulling strings as if I'm a puppet who can't do any better! I came here to get _away _from that sort of thing!"

Jack sighed, making me feel as if I was a naughty child who he had to reprimand. I scowled.

"For your information, Will promised to stop -" my voice broke and I put a hand over my mouth, my eyes widening. Jack looked up. I bit my lip. "He promised to stop asking me to marry him, if it made me so unhappy. He said he would stop." I said quietly, wondering why this made me feel so awful if it was what I had wanted in the first place. I looked at Jack, who was muttering under his breath.

"…stupid boy, to give up just like that! Bloody idiot, his father would be turning in his grave…"

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Well, ye'll have to get him back of course." Jack said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"And what if I don't want to?"

"Christina -"

"What if I want to be left in peace, hmm?"

"Pet -"

"What if I don't _need_ some _man_ to take care of me? Some man who will just as easily hurt me as he would love me -"

"Listen, love -"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know!"

Jack slammed his hand on the desk, making me jump. "Yes, darling, we are all very well aware of that." he drawled, sarcasm dripping from his voice like oil. I narrowed my eyes at him, but his gaze softened. "Listen…did ye ever stop to think that maybe all those men with wives aren't takin' care of their wives as much as their wives are takin' care of them?" he asked. I stared at him and fought down the urge to laugh. I failed, and laughed outright. Jack, for the first time that I could remember, looked a bit flustered but still he held his ground.

"This can't be right…Jack Sparrow, telling me that men need women to live? Oh wait, Jack, coming from you, that is about right, but if that's all Will wants me for..." I snorted. What was so amusing to me is how serious Jack was when he delivered that line. It seemed as if someone had taken all the people I know and pulled them inside out, so that I could hardly recognize them anymore.

"Laugh if you will, pet, but tell me: how was your father, after his wife left him?"

I froze, staring at Jack mutely again. My father was indeed devastated after my mother left, and still carried the remnants of that with him even now. Would Will spend his years like my father, lonely and blaming himself, if I never forgave him? I felt my hands slow fall to my sides limply.

"But - but Will doesn't think of me as…as his…does he?" I faltered, all the mirth sucked from the room as fast as it had come. Jack walked up to me and put a firm hand on my arm, leading me from his office forcefully. "He does, Christina…why d'yeh think he asked ye to marry him in the first place? Why d'yeh think he came after ye?"

"Every man -"

"No, love. It's not his guilty conscience." Jack said, opening the door for me. I turned around as he let go of my arm.

"Jack?" I asked. "Aye?" he said, nodding towards the crows' nest as if that's where he plainly was ordering me to go. I glared. "Yer to clean that crows' nest, Christina, as the deck is sparkling already." Jack said firmly. I sighed, as part of the crew I had to do what I was told, even if I didn't like it.

"You don't have a wife, Jack." I said pointedly, glaring at him still.

"Aye." he said gruffly, closing the door in my face.

"Clean the crows' nest…what rubbish is that? Nobody stays up there long enough to foul it up." I muttered, climbing up the rigging with a rag hanging precariously over my shoulder. I was worried about being face to face with Will…stupid, as over the past few days I'd been face to bare-bloody-chest with him. Needless to say, now it was different. Now, he was not my pursuer, and he wouldn't be strutting about shirtless. Now, I didn't know where we were. At least yesterday I could be angry with him and not have to worry about more complicated things. Now, he was my ex-fiancé who was doing what I wanted him to do to please me. But instead being pleased, I found myself being introduced into a new kind of misery.

I took a breath and hauled myself up into the crows' nest, only to be greeted with - no one. Will was nowhere to be seen. I stared around at the emptiness with a mixture of relief and disappointment. I wanted him to be here so I could make sure that he didn't hate me or that I hadn't hurt him too much. For all the time I'd spent thinking of how I would get back at him - which was considerable, when the wounds that he inflicted (not literally, in this case) were still raw. Even when I considered them less than scars that would twinge with the weather and had thought about how nice it would be if I repaid him for that. But I knew that I never wanted to hurt him. That made me rather angry with myself, as if it made me weak, not wanting to get even. But the thought of hurting Will hurt me more, and I desperately wanted to stop hurting, to put him from my mind.

I sighed and sat down in the crows' nest, staring at the rag that I held loosely in my hands. As long as Jack had ordered me to clean, I might as well stay here, away from everybody. Away from Mary, who I didn't know if she was concerned for me, or still tampering in the affairs of my life. Away from Anamaria, who I was sure was ready to kill me for the vile things I'd said to her. I felt a tiny prick of regret for what I'd said, but pushed it away. She didn't deserve it any more than Mary did, both of them and Jack included were acting in a way they thought would help me, instead of leaving it be. And it was a habit of Anamaria's to goad me into something, this time I had just taken a the bait a bit too eagerly. It was still hard to feel too much remorse for hurting someone who insisted on calling me 'Princess'.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, wondering what in the hell I was going to do. I could talk to Will again, something I desperately wanted, but I was so afraid to. In the silence and the rhythmic rocking of the crows' nest I was able to admit it to myself that I was afraid he would hurt me again, if I let him. It seemed strange to me how Will and I could have gotten to this point, when this time last year he was my best friend, the boy I'd grown up with and the man I'd grown to love helplessly, even as he'd fawned over Elizabeth. It was easier then, I realized, without all the stress that being engaged brought, and then the heartache at suddenly not being engaged added. It was simpler to just love Will from a distance and not have him love me back. It was easier to have him blindly in love with Elizabeth, who at that time was all but promised to the Commodore.

I put a hand over my eyes and realized how close to crying I actually was. Part of me wished I'd never met Will, if this was how it was going to end up - but mostly I wouldn't give him up for anything. I realized, grudgingly, that I had come to think of him as the most important thing in my life long before now, and I wondered how someone I held so dear could end up hurting me so much. I did not feel like the Governor's eldest daughter, the one whom all the nobles talked about behind gloved hands. I did not feel at all like the woman who had run off to fight pirates, the woman who wore men's clothing and snuck out of her father's house. I did not feel like the same woman who dueled with the Commodore and had faired better than most men did, as Gillette said with that amused twinkle in his eyes. I snorted, no, I was not that woman at all anymore.

Now I was a woman who lost a duel to the man she loved, a duel that a few months ago she would have won. Will disarmed me now in a way he hadn't before and I hardly understood it. Where a few months ago I had been the woman who had loved him, yes, but was unconquerable otherwise, now I was the woman who had been subjected to a mockery of what she once was and hardly put up a fight.

"Surely its not as bad as all that," a soft voice said from beside me. I looked up to see Mary, her white face shining with honesty this time that I let my guard down. I let my fingers play over the knot that Will had made over the cut in my palm. I put my head on my knees and hugged them to me, huddled up into as small a thing as I could make myself. I heard Mary shift and move to sit next to me, her arm around my shoulders.

"I really am sorry." she whispered, and it seemed to me that she was on the verge of tears as well. "I never meant for it to hurt you like this - what a terrible friend I have been." she said, and in her gentle way of hers she was leading me to think not of myself. Someone else would have seen it as selfish, but it was Mary's way. She would not force me to talk about how I felt until I was ready to bring it up. I wiped at my eyes hastily and turned to look at her.

"You are not a terrible friend at all, Mary. A terrible friend would not have come with me here." I said. She bit her lip. "I almost didn't." she whispered. I sighed. "But you did, and that's what counts. And what you did…it is not so different from me pushing you at the Commodore like I did, dressing you up and such. So now I suppose we are even."

"No…he didn't hurt me like you hurt." Mary said softly, and I leaned my head on her shoulder as a tear slipped hotly out of the corner of my eye. "This is true." I whispered, and she laughed quietly.

"He said he'd stop asking me." I offered, looking up at her. She looked impassive. I picked my head up and turned to look her in the eyes. "Is that what you wanted?" she said finally. I sighed and shook my head. "Yes. No…I don't think so. I wanted…I want him to stop making me so vulnerable, so afraid. They don't mention how fragile love makes you." I said dejectedly, cursing all the fairytales that my mother had reserved for Elizabeth's tea parties.

"No, I suppose they don't." Mary said. "What are you going to do?" she asked. I stared up at the sky, which was rapidly being strewn with oranges and reds, pinks and further away, deep violets, like bruises. "I don't want him to leave," I said finally. "If he leaves, what choice do I have but to follow him?"

Mary giggled at what must have been the most disgusted look on my face. I smiled as well, listening to how silly I sounded. "You don't have to worry - there is no place he can go." Mary said. "You can maintain your foolish pride a little while yet." she whispered, shoving me playfully. I rolled my eyes but that was the last that was said for a long while.

"Mary?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I made a mistake? By running away?"

Mary was silent. I waited. "I don't know how to answer that, Christina…I have never been in love, not that I know of. I don't know how I would react if the man I loved, if I saw him kissing another woman. Especially if that woman was my sister, who I'd been jealous of my entire life…"

"Thank you, Mary." I said dryly.

"You had no reason to be so jealous of her, as beautiful as she is. You are naught but her equal." Mary said. I smiled wryly. "And now you try to amend your words, I see." She rolled her eyes at me.

"Can't you see he loves you?" Mary said, almost wistfully. It was my turn to be quiet, not wanting to admit that yes, it seemed evident that he did love me. What then was holding me back? I swore.

"That's a yes." Mary said smartly.

"Damnation, Mary, yes it is! He loves me, I know it!"

"And you love him."

"And I love him. For years now." I said softly and Mary's eyes widened at me. "Surely you knew that, Mary, or have you not been listening all those years?"

"I have been listening, but you never mentioned love! Only that he was the most handsome, the kindest, the strongest, the sweetest and the most romantic boy you'd ever met!"

I glared at her. "I did not say all that! You make me sounds like some simpering _girl_." I said disgustedly. Mary laughed. "And when were you anything else, Christina?"

"And he was hardly romantic, the blustering idiot that he was a lot of the time. Laughing at me the time I put powder on, pulling me up so brusquely if I'd tripped in the confounded shift I wore! A brute more than a romantic, I think!" I said, grinning along with her.

"Ah, but he helped you up, did he not? That was more than you were used to from a man, back then." Mary said wisely. I pushed my nose up in the air, "He was nothing but a boy, Mary, a little boy trying to be man."

"And now?" Mary asked lowly, another wicked grin fixed on her face, very similar to the one Anamaria wore when she had taunted me. I swallowed.

"Well, you don't expect him to turn into a woman, do you, Mary?" I scoffed, coughing a bit as my tongue tripped over itself. She said nothing but instead was shaking with silent laughter.

We sat again like stones, nothing but the wisps of our hair blowing in the wind. My fingers had not stopped tracing patterns on the bandage around my hand, I noticed, and pulled my hands apart as if they held a burning plate. The sky was now conquered by the violet color and slowly fading into a deeper blue-black cloak of night. I saw the first few stars twinkle like angels' eyes in the sky and wondered if I dared to make a wish. Somehow I felt like I'd already made one.

Mary stood up, pulling me with her after a moment. "He will wait for you, I think, if you are not too harsh with him." she said quietly and turned to go, leaving me once again alone and swallowing hard at the tightness of my throat and the restless confusion of my thoughts.

[A/N: Ta da! Chapter 20! Now that I have sorely neglected my other stories for this one, I must go! There are three pages of the next chapter of TYO up, and a shifty inspiration for TGOO, but they both need writing! R/R please! Ciao.]


	21. Coming To Terms

[[Disclaimer: Don't own any recognizable characters. Damn.

A/N: Thanks to **kukumalu **and **Twilight-la-fae **for being so awesome and reviewing practically EVERY chapter that was reposted.]]

1

It seems to me that I am a magnet for uncertainty, tension, and vexation. The few days that passed after my heart to heart with both Jack and Mary were the most stressful days of my life. I would rather duel with Barbossa myself - with him being invincible and what not - than go through those few days over again.

One would think that after Jack and I had had our little heartfelt discussion, he would let up a bit and let me live a few days without having Will on top of me. Of course not. In fact, when I told him that, he had absolutely nothing to say except: "Aye, love, but on top of ye is exactly where the whelp is supposed to be."

Need I even mention that Will was right behind me as Jack said this? The sheer humiliation nearly made me collapse. Did Jack feel even mildly ashamed of himself? No. All he did was wink. Wink! And tap his nose, like it was some grand old joke, making me flush nearly purple and then get even darker when I turned around to see Will behind me, with a rather astonished look on his face. _He_ certainly didn't seem perturbed at what Jack said, if a little surprised. In fact, I saw him grin almost _sheepishly_ at Jack seconds after I stormed away. As if the thought had occurred to Will, too! As if Jack needs anything else to roar about to the crew!

So help me God if I don't kill Jack Sparrow with my bare hands.

Will, however, aside from his ill-hidden glee at the thought of himself "on top of me", was keeping his word. He had stopped asking me to marry him, and was hardly looking at me any more. I don't know which was worse - him pleading for my forgiveness, or him ignoring me.

Oh, hell, of course I know which one is worse!

I wasn't doing much to help the situation, however, as I was avoiding Will like the plague. I didn't quite know why, but having finally gotten my wish of him leaving me alone, I didn't want to go back on it now. It might just confuse the poor boy until he loses his mind completely, and its quite possible that it could have the same affect on me.

And I was just _barely_ clinging to sanity already.

The crew was no help whatsoever, wherever I walked I would hear one or two hissing at me about the prize I was supposed to give Will for beating me in our duel. And the crew always managed to say something like that with Will around - I cannot say how many times I cricked my neck spinning to look at him. He looked impassive, most of the time, or looked at me sadly. No matter what Jack said about Will getting his prize on his own time, and not in front of them, it was not unknown that Will had not gotten his prize at all yet. And the crew, siding with Will of course, as most of them were men, took every opportunity to put Will and I in a situation to kiss.

Once, a few days ago, they had brought cleared the table below and had lit candles all around the bunks. Aside from this being a completely unnecessary fire hazard, they were also liberal with a lot of dried flowers hanging from the same places where the candles were. Intelligence is not one of the finer attributes of the Pearl's crew, hand-picked by Jack Sparrow, of course.

We had just stopped at a Port and gotten more supplies when I learned that the crew had all chipped in and bought a rather fine feast for two - meaning that it could successfully feed the entire crew for about two days, most likely. They had goaded the Pearl's cook into preparing what pirates would call a romantic dinner - it was probably very similar to the food that Elizabeth had described to me when she was on the Pearl under Barbossa as the Captain. Somehow, a large pig with an apple in its mouth and olives in its eyes is not very romantic, but that's just my opinion.

Anyway, somehow they got Will below - I'm still not entirely sure that he wasn't in on this since the beginning - and they also found a way to get me below as well. Anamaria, I'm sure, had absolutely nothing to do with it, as she's not even _looking_ at me anymore, and she wouldn't want to help me - "help" me! - with Will. Because we all know how very _helpful_ pirates are. Bloody pirates.

They didn't stop at just the dinner though, oh no. They had gone out during their day ashore and bought me a dress! A dress! It wasn't in the best condition, certainly not new, but it was pretty. It was dark blue and cut off-the-shoulder and would have been very beautiful if not for the plunging neckline. Of course, little did I know what the crew intended when buying me this dress - I thought they were being nice. It was nice to have a gift from them, even one that suggested they thought I was some woman of Tortuga, because the crew had been adamant about not taking me seriously. Perhaps I should have known then that if they were acknowledging me as one of them, they would have bought me a pistol or a hat. Not a dress that was hardly suitable for a bedchamber, let alone a pirate ship!

They convinced me to try it on.

If the dress _looked_ like it belonged to some woman like Giselle, in Tortuga, it was nothing compared to how it looked on me. I hardly fit into the dress, though I suppose that was the point. I'm being extremely subtle if I say that I'm just a _tad _more well-endowed than skinny little Giselle. The crew barely waited until I had it on before pulling me out of Jack's office, which he regarded sourly as my dressing room, before forcing me below. To where Will was waiting.

I went laughing, thinking that perhaps this was some right of passage for new members of the crew - surely Mary would be subjected to the same thing as soon as she was on the ship long enough. Obviously not. They put something heavy over the door so that I couldn't get out - taking it a bit far, even for pirates, if you ask me - and left me to share a romantic dinner with my formerly betrothed.

Dinner was a spectacle alright. I suppose I could have gotten changed but I was loathed to do that in the cramped compartments that made up the bunks. With Will. It was one thing to change in the same room as your fiancé when you were just that - his fiancé. It was another thing completely when two people are very much in love, and both decide mutually that there is not a single thing they want to do about it. Because of all the pent up tension that had been building since the so-called duel, I didn't think it would be wise for me to undress. I mean, its not like I didn't trust Will, and its not like I didn't trust myself either…because I did. But Will and I aren't patrons of wise decisions, to put it lightly.

A trip down embarrassing-memory lane, then? Very well.

"Christina?" Will had said, standing up so fast that he would have knocked over his chair had it not been nailed to the deck. In any other situation I would have laughed - when he wasn't ignoring me, Will acted as though I was the Queen Elizabeth herself, standing up when I entered a room and what not. However, in this situation, with my wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination - and Will has a very good imagination, I'm sure - it was all I could do not to scream.

Or maybe I did scream.

"_WILL! _WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? WILL TURNER, IF YOU ARE PART OF THIS ILL-CONCEIEVED PLAN TO GET ME TO SAY THAT I WANT TO MARRY YOU, AS MUCH AS I DO WANT TO, _IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK!_ HOW DARE YOU, WILLIAM HAROLD TURNER!"

Cackle, cackle, went the crew above.

"Christina, calm down. No I'm not part of this, the crew told me to come down here, that you wanted to talk to me…what are you wearing?" Will edged around the table cautiously, holding his hands out in front of him as if trying to reassure me that he wasn't going to hurt me. Ha. More likely, I was going to rip his eyes out if he kept ogling at me like that!

"They told you WHAT? Oh, I'm going to FLAY JACK SPARROW ALIVE!" I shrieked. I heard Jack's muffled voice above me, "Love, I have bloody _nothing_ to do with it!" I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest, not realizing that the look on Will's face had nothing to do with Jack's proclamation.

"Christina, why don't you just…sit down…are you hungry? The crew said that you…well, they provided this," he finished lamely, taking me by the arm and trying to put his eyes everywhere but my - oh. Hastily, I uncrossed my arms. "I'm going to murder every single one of them," I grumbled under my breath, letting him lead me to a chair next to his. The chairs were nailed to the floor to keep them from sliding around, but they suddenly seemed much closer together than I had noticed before. I swallowed hard.

I sat down gingerly, my head bowed to observe how such an action would affect the top of my dress. Looking up, I realized that Will was observing the very same thing. "Look, William, this may not have been your idea - unlikely, and its something I'm still considering - but you will _kindly_ keep your eyes on _mine_ when I'm talking to you!" I snapped, not even bothering to tuck a napkin there because it would just call more attention to…myself. Bloody crew.

"I was keeping my eyes on yours when you were talking," Will said slyly. I frowned at him. "As grateful as I am that you did not demand your prize fulfilled, Will, it does not allow you to stare at me as if I was some wench at a bar!" I growled, not appreciating his newfound sense of sarcasm.

"Are you are supposed to be something other than a wench at a bar in that thing?"

My eyes must have popped straight out of my head and gone rolling around on the table with the pig. Maybe the pig could use them instead of the olives that he had to make due with. I was really quite shocked that he -Will, I mean, not the pig - could be acting like this towards me…shall we recap the part few experiences I've had with this man? One, he was in love with my sister so deeply that he would have 'died for her' in that stupid self-sacrificing way that men have. Two, he falls in love with me and proposes. Three, he kisses my sister while apparently still in love with me. Four, he chases after me after I run away - with more than good reason - and demands WHY I wont marry him. That's just displaying his stupidity and ignorance - which he somwhat heals by saying that he will stop badgering me about getting married. And now? He takes it upon himself to not let the crew down, and stares at me like I'm some form of entertainment for him! Which is what the crew planned, yes, and I hate it when plans against me succeed. And not only does he stare at me like he's about to pay for a favor or two, but he taunts me about it as well.

"Excuse me?" I seethed. Will smiled at me in that way that he has and I felt my control slipping. Let him stare at me if he wanted - it was better than him staring at Anamaria or Mary, or, I admitted grudgingly, Elizabeth. I caught myself smiling back and froze, fixing a scowl on my face and raising my chin haughtily, like a true daughter of a rich Governor.

"You're not doing a very good job of convincing me that you have nothing to do with this. And if I find out that you took part in this in any way at all, I will never marry you William Turner, I swear it!"

Will's smile faltered and disappeared. "I'm sorry, Christina, but I swear that I had absolutely nothing to do with this." His face took on a look of desperation, as if my threat were somehow the worst thing he could ever hear. I stared at him - I had no trouble looking at his _eyes_ and _only_ his eyes! - and nodded slowly. "I believe you," I said reluctantly, mostly because I remembered the resignation in his eyes when he told me that he wouldn't ask anymore. He sighed with relief and I felt a smile touch my lips.

"Surely my never marrying you wouldn't be so horrible, Will?" I teased. He didn't return my grin. "It would be," he told me solemnly. I looked away quickly and took a deep breath, which was a trick in itself, because this dress was near bursting. I licked my lips nervously and I caught Will swallowing hard from the corner of my eye.

"So…any ideas about how we're going to get out of here?" I asked cautiously, stealing a look at him. He shook his head. "I doubt they'll let us out if we ask…" he said lowly. I glowered up at the ceiling. "Even if we ask nicely?" Will smiled and I avoided looking at him. "Could you ask nicely without swearing oaths at them, Christina?" he asked me. I grinned, "Ah, you know me far too well, Turner," I replied and choked a bit on the wine that I had sipped at. Will rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Neither of us knew quite what to say to each other, it seemed.

"How long do you think they'll keep us in here?" he asked. I wrinkled my nose. "Until Jack orders them to let us out, which he probably wont do for a good while, no matter how much he says that he wasn't involved in it."

"Well, they can't keep us in here forever. They're going to have to come in to sleep come night," Will said decisively. I nodded. "Right. But if it's a still night, they might sleep above…Oy! When are you going to let us out!" I bellowed, chucking a piece of hardtack at the ceiling. It cracked into many small grainy pieces and rained down on Will and I. The only thing that hardtack is good for besides getting the attention of your traitorous crewmates is for hammering - the ruddy stuff is too vile to eat. Not that I'd been eating much of anything else lately besides disgustingly salted meat; we'd really needed to stop for food.

My stomach growled loudly. I sighed. "Well, as long as we're down here, we might as well eat. And eat as much of it as we possibly can, I don't want any to be left over for _them_." I jerked my head up towards the ceiling. Will chuckled, "Very well."

We loaded our plates - gold gilded plates - and ate in silence for a while. The ice had been broken, though, and soon we were talking the way we did before all of the insanity occurred…we were talking the way we did before he realized he was in love with me. I bit my lip thoughtfully, wondering what it meant. Surely he couldn't have stopped loving me that fast…

"Christina?" Will touched my shoulder gently and I started so badly that I choked around a piece of pork. Coughing, I stared at him. "W-what?" Will's eyebrow's knit together like I was something he couldn't quite puzzle out. "Are you okay? You look pale…are you sick?" he asked, concerned. I shook my head but I couldn't jar the thought that maybe he had stopped loving me, that's why we were so comfortable. Maybe he didn't want to ask me to marry him any more than I wanted him to. I turned to him and realized that the chairs were a lot closer together than I had thought they were. Will had leaned over when I started coughing and now his face was mere inches from mine. I bit my lip worriedly. "I'm fine," I whispered. Why was I whispering? Will started to pull away but I put a hand on his arm and he froze. Slowly, he turned his head to look at me.

Maybe Elizabeth was right, and I did steal him from her. Because I couldn't stop myself from leaning closer to Will; maybe I was every bit the temptress that she had accused me of being. But surely I'd never done anything like this when Will was teaching me to duel…true, I was never eager to talk about Elizabeth either; no matter how many times he asked, I always found a way to change the subject. But maybe I had meant more when I dashed out to duel with him in my shift, not realizing how it could have affected his judgment, and altered his view of me from his friend to something more…and yet, he had been the one who was mad to save Elizabeth from Barbossa. I couldn't be as much of a hussy as Elizabeth was bent on portraying me as, could I?

Nevertheless…I was aware, fully aware, of what happened to the top of my dress when I leaned in to him this way, peering up into his eyes through my lashes. I don't know how successfully I was with the whole siren act, mainly because while the crew did provide me with a dress worthy of a prostitute, they did not provide a bath. It had been a good few weeks since I bathed, but right now that wasn't really on my mind...

Elizabeth had claimed that Will loved me through some sort of witchcraft on my part - but maybe it was something simpler than that. I had never thought of myself as acting seductive around him, but right now there was no other word for how I was behaving.

The thought of Elizabeth being right - about me! - was not pleasant, but at the moment my heart was not in it. I didn't seem to care. If he didn't love me anymore, what was there to do about it? I couldn't change his mind…and yet I found myself a breath away from him, and grateful for the sweet flavor of the wine. Maybe I had sipped more wine than I thought.

"I owe you a kiss, don't I?"

1

Commodore Norrington always prided himself on being a very consistent man. He was a man of unwavering personality, and while some people - such as the currently missing in action Miss Swann - would think of that as boring, the Commodore thought that reliability was a good characteristic for a person to have. Especially a person who was a Commodore.

Commodore Norrington very rarely did anything surprising. He believe in straight-backed responsibility, and that was not easy to accomplish if one was spontaneous. Not that he was a man to take the easy path instead of the righteous one. Commodore James Norrington always took care to do the right thing, not the easy thing. He was not like a whimsical blacksmith, running off - most likely drunkenly - after a woman who _he_ had caused to run away in the first place.

James Norrington knew all about what happened between young Turner and the eldest Swann daughter. He knew more than either of those two would have wanted him to know, but after Christina ran off and Turner followed her, Norrington stayed in the Governor's mansion for three days, trying to reassure Governor Swann that he would rescue his daughter. He tried to find out any information he could about where Christina would have fled to; he interviewed the servants, he interviewed Elizabeth, who cried a great deal of the time. He went up to the stables on a whim and interviewed the stable boys, who showed him a trinket that Christina Swann had given one of them before dashing out. The boys said that she had come storming in after a short ride on her mount, and when Norrington asked what she might have been running from one of the smallest boys came forward to say that he'd been out exploring and had seen a ship moored about a mile off the coast of Port Royal. Norrington could barely keep his temper with the lad - what was wrong with young men nowadays? If he had been twelve and seen a suspicious ship anchored far away from the main docks, he would have reported it to someone immediately. But then, Norrington was never a stable boy.

On the third day with Governor Swann, after he had leeched as much information as he could from the servants and such, Norrington had tried to devise some kind of plan of action. But it was hard - and Norrington was never one to shirk his duty, he was rigidly aware of how far away that damnable Jack Sparrow could have gotten by now - not even knowing where Christina planned to go, and if she ever sought to return. For all anyone knew, she could be gone from Port Royal forever. Norrington didn't think Governor Swann could cope for an extended period of time if he daughter had run off much the same way her mother did. Not that it was any fault of the Governor's this time - no, another man was to blame.

But with Mary gone - Norrington's heart clenched at the thought of Mary Pearl in the hands of vile pirates - and with Turner off trying to play the hero, which was not quite as convincing in this light as he was merely paying the price for his infidelity, it was difficult to find a lead anywhere.

One thing seemed certain. They would be heading for Tortuga, most likely. Norrington had cursed himself repeatedly for waiting so long before leaving. They couldn't possibly have made it to Tortuga already, but he had wasted valuable amounts of time trying to figure out what Christina could have been planning when he could have been sailing already.

There was one thing he was sure of - this could not come to blows. Not with Jack Sparrow, whose Pearl could outstrip any ship in the Caribbean. If there was some nautical battle of sorts - by now, Commodore Norrington had no idea what to expect - it would be taking too many chances. He had assured Governor Swann that the most important thing was, of course, getting the Governor's daughter back. Secretly, James Norrington thought that Christina could fend for herself quite well, and she obviously trusted Jack Sparrow. And Jack might even have some sort of affection for the girl, after all, he had promised to 'kidnap her properly' to save her from what he must have thought a waste of potential for so promising a female pirate.

Norrington was loathed to admit this to Governor Swann. If the Governor thought that Jack Sparrow had taken some interest in his daughter, he would have sent out an entire army after her to protect her honor. Though, with a woman like Christina, Norrington wasn't even sure and entire army _could_ protect her honor. Not if she didn't want it protected. She wasn't conventional in the slightest, which was making his job all the more difficult.

"If I was a woman scorned, where would I go?" the Commodore had mused with a wry smile one the last eve before making his own plan of action. He was standing in Governor Swann's garden, watching the birds play in the bird bath, completely unaware of the footsteps behind him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you utter those words before, Commodore." The voice of First Mate Gillette was slick with amusement. The Commodore turned, his arms clasped formally behind him. The smile that was on the First Mate's lips was far from formal. The two men had been friends for years, with the First Mate only a few scant months younger than Norrington himself. They had both been good sailors; James Norrington had been raised to Commodore and had gradually undergone a change in personality, whereas Gillette remained virtually unchanged. He was still the same man who took a comfort and joy in the art of sailing the way some men took their own comfort in women and ale. At one point, Commodore Norrington was quite sure that Gillette had fancied Christina Swann for his wife, but the First Mate had made it all too clear that that was not the case.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalling for time, sir." Gillette often mocked Norrington for his change in position, all in good fun. Norrington knew that he could not find a more faithful First Mate anywhere; he knew he would never have to fear a mutiny. Not that mutinies were common around here, the sailors of Port Royal were no common and base pirates, after all. But all the same, Norrington felt better not having to worry about going through what Jack Sparrow had undergone. Still, he found it hard to have any pity for the pirate.

"Stalling. Gillette, have you ever known me to be a man to stall?" Norrington asked, clasping his hands in front of him this time. Gillette grinned, "Only when you were contemplating asking Miss Elizabeth Swann to be your wife…" he said, his noncommittal shrug letting the Commodore know that there was no bite in his words. Norrington nodded. "Aye."

"That blasted Jack Sparrow - even if we leave for Tortuga this instant, we will get there and he'll be long gone! With the Governor's daughter!" Norrington slapped his hand on the rim of the birdbath, sending all its inhabitants scattering indignantly. He didn't miss Gillette's wry smirk.

"_Just_ the Governor's daughter? Are you quite sure there isn't another whom you are so anxious to dash off and rescue?"

Norrington frowned. "There is the maid, too. She shouldn't be subjected to a life of piracy." Gillette scoffed, going so far as to look offended. "She isn't just the maid, James, you know that bloody well, even though you insist on being a stubborn as an arse," he spat.

"It is my duty to rescue both of them, yes? What more do you suggest I do?" Norrington felt his own ire rising. Mary Pearl was not something he bloody wanted to talk about. He wasn't sure how he felt about the woman except for the way it made his blood boil thinking of her with Jack Sparrow. Jealousy, yes. But James Norrington would be the very last to admit it. Mary Pearl made his blood boil in more ways than just jealously, but by now she would think that he hated her.

"I suggest you come to terms with how you feel about that woman. Maybe you don't see it, James, but you're different from the sailor I served the Crown with a sodding decade ago. If you keep going the way you are now, you'll kill yourself."

"What would you know about it, Gillette?" Commodore Norrington shot back heatedly. Gillette looked as if it was an effort not to say what he wanted, disgustingly aware of the fact that James was his proverbial Boss. "You know exactly what I mean, Commodore." He managed a quick nod, knowing far too well that his friend was in an arrogant mood created by the title given him earlier this year, the title that he'd been working strenuously for since becoming a sailor, most likely.

"Try remembering the man you were before the ceremony, _Commodore_." Gillette walked out of the garden straight-backed and not looking back at the man his best friend had become.

Commodore Norrington walked out of the garden moments later, not bothering to bid good-bye to the Governor. He found himself in his own mansion, staring at all the things that he had come to own. Tall marble sculptures of perfectly shaped women decorated the vast hallways in-between high ceiling-ed rooms, paintings by famous artists, imported tapestries and the like. Expensive clothing, old books, trinkets that he didn't know the use of and would probably never need, aged wine, fine serving ladies and a cook that was second only to the Governor's. He walked from empty room to empty room and thought of what Gillette had said; if there was one thing that could be said for Gillette it was that the man was honest to the point of annoyance. James Norrington let his thoughts drift to Mary Pearl - he still didn't know if that was her real name - as he stared up at one of the marble figurines. He wondered if she would ever forgive for all the things he'd said to her that were out of line. No woman deserved to be treated the way he'd treated her; once there was a time when Norrington wouldn't even offer a wench or barmaid the same respect he'd offer a queen. Mary deserved the way he acted least of all.

That was how Commodore found himself at Tortuga weeks later without a crew except for his First Mate and a man named Richard Millar; the man claimed to know Christina well since they were children, and maybe he could help find her somehow. Gillette had joined him without a word on the deck of a small, fast ship - a vessel that could more truthfully be called a boat than a ship, in all honesty. He had decided that he would have to stop lying, at least for a bit, to himself. He would try to give up this quest to bring Jack Sparrow to justice, just for now. He knew the truth that rang in the First Mate's words…if he kept on like the cold, indifferent man he had turned into, he would die, sooner or later. All men did, but some men were lucky enough to have made something worthwhile of their lives. And what would be said of him then? That he was a distant man, successful, but empty? Catching villains and making the seas safer, but having no time for a family, a wife, children? He didn't want to be remembered as a man who was too cold for that, but at the rate he was going, there would be no one to remember him anyway. Watching the scantily clad blonde woman - the owner of the pub that he was in, _The Moon's Wolf - _as she repeatedly beat off advances from some of her patrons with a wet rag, James Norrington realized that for once he wasn't off to increase his own esteem. He just wanted to apologize to a woman named Mary.

1

[[A/N: Whew…ya'll don't know how hard I've been trying to break out of complete writer's block to get all that down! But once I started writing, I guess I just couldn't shut up.]]


	22. Of Luck With Lovers

[[Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

A/N: A week 'til school starts. ::sob::]]

1

Governor Swann had never been lucky when it came to women. He was not a heroic man by any means. Nor was he very handsome, though his family's fortune more than made up for that. When he had been living in England, he had been invited to all the very finest balls and parties, high up among nobles and the like. Women liked him, or rather, the gold that his clothes were embroidered with, from collar to bootstraps. Men of lower Houses seemed to want to try to get on his good side, often by offering their sisters or even daughters as prizes. If Governor Swann had been a better man, this would have disgusted him. But while living in England he was young and rash and liked to make sport of women - from barmaids to baronesses, showing no favorites to either.

He should have known how much it would have caught up with him.

Upon meeting Belynda St. Paul, Governor Swann's view of women was quite changed. Belynda was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had seen a good many women in his time. True, she was just barely of age to marry and he was a good few years older than her, but it didn't change a thing. He wanted to marry Belynda St. Paul, he had called her Belle, for her beauty, and he would marry her, one way or another.

His friends had never let him live down his ardor for Belynda - Franklin Wolfred Henry Swann, the third, whom his friends called 'wolf', to his dismay and chagrin; the amount Governor Swann's similarities with the animal would find it difficult to fill a teaspoon - wanting to marry? The same Franklin who had known nearly every woman in England old enough for a bodice? The Franklin who was on first name basis with every wench in England? He might not have been handsome, and he might not have been brave, but it was amazing just how much a glint of gold could make up for.

He ignored them of course. He hardly cared for what the bunch of louts who called themselves lords thought. He loved Belynda with his whole heart, the way her skin always seemed to rebel against the powder she was forced to wear - he hated the powder, however much he would not admit it, it always seemed to mute her beauty the way a layer dust mutes the shine of finely carved marble. He loved the way her walked about with her chin held up, glaring at the other men who would seek to engage her in conversation. He loved the thin silver chain she wore around her neck, whatever charm on it was hidden in the front of her dress - another part the lecher in him loved. He loved the way sunlight would glint off her dark plaited hair, and how she refused to carry a parasol with her, and how she showed somewhat of a disdain to the disapproving glances of the other ladies - her mother included.

But what fascinated him the most was the sad look in her eyes - they were hazel, the Governor recalled now. It had been nearly ten years since he'd allowed himself to think of the color of her eyes. He loved her right down to the peculiar way she spelled her name.

Of course, it was a good many years later that he knew how much he truly did love her. Not just for her beauty, that at one point that had been enough. Even a longer while after that would he come to terms with how unattainable she had been, and always would have been, even after their vows were exchanged. Governor Swann had not thought of that in a long while, either. It was never pleasant knowing that the woman you had been married to for ten years had never loved you, and never would.

He had courted her slowly, but had never found out the source of her sadness that always laced her features, try as she might to disguise it. He approached her differently than he would other women - the difference being that he was actually approaching her, this time. Most women were handed to him by sniveling lesser lords, or else were barmaids after the money in his purse. But Belynda he took care for. He presented himself as a shy man, something he was not and never had been. He brought her books instead of flowers, seeing clearly her lack of interest in the latter displayed in her false small smile and the barely hidden roll of her eyes as other men gifted her with bouquets. She began to smile when he came to her, a small smile, but more genuine to the quirk of her lips she showed other men. It was a triumph that he would flaunt to his friends - a good many of them fancied Belynda as well, but none of them were ever very successful.

He remembered that she had not wanted to marry. Within a few months of his courting - not more than two, surely - her parents had given him permission to marry her, and when he asked, she accepted meekly. He took her timidity for a quiet joy - many women were like that, after all. A few months after that and he had become aware of why her parents were so hasty for her to be married. Belynda was pregnant, and far to quickly for the father to be him.

Governor Swann rubbed his hands over his face tiredly as he eased himself into the chair in his study, for once not able to stop this tirade of memories before they began. He had been a great many things to Belynda, but he was not sure that a good husband was among them. Once she was married, her parents too little interest in her, having saved their own reputation. Never mind the reputation _he_ would get, as the husband to a woman who was beginning to show signs - _visible_ signs - of pregnancy three months into her marriage. He realized what a fool he had been to marry Belynda without knowing her past first; he had not even bothered to ask. And he didn't bother to ask after finding her suddenly with a heavy belly and weeping, clutching her silver necklace in her hand. He stared at her stonily and had walked from the room; it stung how she barely seemed to notice.

By then, the hum of whispers concerning himself and Belynda built up to a dull roar, and he had no choice but to move him and his wife to another place. He moved them to a place where there were relatively few people and fewer of the nobles, and bought a hefty amount of land with his inheritance, and enough servants to support them easily enough. Belynda barely spoke a word to him, her shadowed eyes watching him as he walked from room to room. He felt her eyes on his back and stiffened whenever he met her gaze, glaring at her as if it was she who cheated him. But he could not quell the nagging voice that maintained it was he who was at fault for not pressing her or her parents for Belynda's history of suitors.

Belynda gave birth to two girls, much to Governor Swann's relief. He would have hated his first son and heir to be fathered by someone other than himself - he was tender enough towards Belynda to know that he would not disown her son, even if it was not his child. But the shame of a son who would inherit all he owned and not even be of his blood - Governor Swann was very relieved to have two daughters instead. He began speaking to Belynda again, letting her name the eldest daughter, and suggesting a name for the younger. Belynda readily agreed, even if she did not love him, she loved silence even less.

Belynda began to smile again, but never at him, and the only happiness that entered her eyes came when she sat feeding her daughters. She had adamantly refused a wet nurse, saying she would never give her children to _some other woman _to care for. He pointed out that he would have rather not had his children fathered by _some other man_, but it seemed he had no choice in that. She stared at him gravely with her sad eyes and murmured that he had had no part in that, and if he would flog her as a woman guilty of infidelity, she'd appreciate it if he made it quick. He nearly did hit her then, for thinking that he'd ever strike her.

He had apologized and assured her that they would have many children of their own one day, and even so he would not put any of his children above her two daughters. She nodded submissively but did not seem overjoyed; she fulfilled her duties as her wife without a grimace, but not with a smile either. And it seemed that he was being punished for all his years as a womanizer, for never once did she get with child by him before she left. And she left, left him the two daughters that were not his had come into their tenth year within a minute of each other.

That was his luck with women, but it had not ended with Belynda leaving. He had notice, years before, the ring she wore on her necklace, the silver _claddagh _ring. He knew that whoever owned the other would be the father of her two daughters, and he masked his jealousy with difficulty - the damnable necklace never came off. He had had a _claddagh _ring of his own made but she hardly took any notice of that, and had walked away from him when he offered to make a newer pair, for them both, in gold.

Left with two daughters whom he had come to love, Governor Swann had run away once again, his empty house haunting him with memories of Belynda. She had never loved him, but he believed he had loved enough for the both of them, however he may have mistreated her, even towards the end when he forced her into that wig and the powder and had the painting made of her. He could not stand the thought of another man in the world who had known Belynda as he had, with her ravens' wing hair and honey skin.

He was left with two daughters, and he did not know which daughter hurt him more. Christina, the eldest, who was the spitting image of her mother. Or Elizabeth, the youngest, who look nothing like her mother and therefore must have looked like the only man Belynda had loved. Christina acted as he imagined Belynda would have acted, had she not been taken from her real love. Belynda Swann had had a temper, but it would have taken much to let it show. She kept a tight rein on her temper, seeming to settle more for somber and submissive than the hint of passion that had drawn Governor Swann as surely as her beauty had. The smallest things would set Christina off into a fury that was remnant of her mother, when Belynda was sorely poked and prodded into a rage.

Elizabeth was quite different, and Governor Swann was sure that Elizabeth, at least, did not act at all like the man who had fathered her. She was meek, seemingly, and lazy, if truth be told, and sneaky, though Governor Swann always overlooked that. Elizabeth was prim and proper, which made the Governor proud, but he'd be damned if Belynda had found characteristics like that admirable in a man; whereas Christina was fanciful, and took her mother's bed time stories too seriously. Both girls shared of love of anything having to do with pirates, however, and that disturbed him. But he found he could be around Elizabeth more without thinking about Belynda, and so he supposed that he had shown favoritism, which only strengthened Christina's ill-fated independence. If she had not been so foolhardy and stubborn - not helped by the fact that she felt she had to be as different from Elizabeth as possible, which the Governor thought was strange; if Christina wanted his praise, surely she would have acted more like her sister, since that was what he seemed to find praiseworthy - perhaps she would not have run away. And while Governor Swann was not one to hesitate in blaming young Turner - the lad would be a good man, if still a yuppie who couldn't seem to make up his mind - he knew that if he, the Governor, had shown less bias towards Elizabeth, perhaps Christina would _not_ have run away, as much as she protested that it was in no way his fault, or anyone else's.

Belynda had not left a letter when she ran away. Instead, she left him to blame himself; he supposed he deserved that and a good deal more. However, it did not stop him from being glad that Christina was not entirely like her mother. It did not alleviate his feelings of guilt, either.

Governor Swann sighed again, coming to himself with a start. Elizabeth stood outside the door to his study with her hands folded neatly in front of her. She wore a look of sadness so remnant of Belynda's that Governor Swann found himself frowning at her. Elizabeth looked pained.

"Father, you can't still be angry at me! Everyone is angry with me, and I don't see why you shouldn't be, but please! Will shall never speak to me again - though I can't blame him, after what I d-did - and Christina will most likely strangle me when she gets back. The Commodore doesn't care, though I've given him little reason to - but you are my _father_!" She trembled as she finished and tried valiantly to keep tears from filling her eyes, but they did and she put her face in her hands, weeping again. It seemed she did that more often than not these days. Governor Swann eased himself from his chair and hurried over to her, wrapping her in a hug that father's have of making tears cry themselves out. He had not told her or her sister the truth about their mother, or their father, for that matter. For twenty years, he had kept it a secret. He wondered how angry Elizabeth would get when he told her. He wondered if Christina would ever come back to find out. Feeling abruptly even more ashamed of himself - had all the years Belynda had gone taught him nothing about women? - he stroked his youngest daughters hair comfortingly. His _daughter_, regardless of who had lain with Belynda first. He had raised Elizabeth, and Christina, and damn any other man who thought he, Governor Fredrick Wolfred Henry Swann the Third, was not their father.

__

Belynda should have stayed. If not for me than for her daughters. Nothing can excuse her for that, Governor Swann thought, only vaguely aware that he had surprised himself. Never before had he held Belynda accountable for anything, it had always been his fault. But, as Elizabeth's shoulders stopped shaking forlornly, he realized that whether or not he had been the best husband, he had been there for the daughters - cringing, he amended that he had been there for Elizabeth, mostly, as he was unsure if Christina had ever really needed him at all, though she was sure to protest - as best he could.

"I am not angry with you, sweeting, you are my daughter and I will always love you. But there is something I must tell you."

1

Will looked surprised, but I didn't give him long enough to ponder out what I had said or suggested before closing the gap between us and pressing my lips to his. Kissing Will was not quite like kissing anybody, and though my experiences with men were few and far between, I'm not so much of a ninny as to never have kissed a man before Will. The stable boys, the more daring of them, which in truth was only about one or two, had made for good practice, and so had Jeremy. Once.

But Will? As silly as it was, he was the man I had been practicing for. He kissed me back after a moment, and pulled me closer to him after another. One of his hands came up to cup the side of my face, and I felt his thumb stroke gently over my cheek. Our food and wine swayed forgotten on the table as the coherent part of my mind was cursing the armrests on the chairs.

This was not the first time I was in a position to kiss him, but the first I had actually acted on it. The crew would be so pleased - after all their schemes, one finally had managed to work. They had been plotting for days, I'm sure, and had started a few weeks ago with a snide remark here and a crude joke there, but their tricks becoming more and more frequent. On a particularly windless day, one crewmember with a scraggly gray beard and one eye - known affectionately as "Uno" - had shoved me right when I stood, mopping sweat from my brow after swabbing the deck for yet another day. Will, who had been assigned to the same task by an infuriatingly smug Jack Sparrow, had caught me as I fell face first into his chest. It took me a good few minutes to regain the ability of speech, another good few minutes to untangle myself from Will - I was as reluctant as he to let go, I'll grudgingly admit - and another few minutes to regain at least a scrap of dignity so I could demand who had pushed me and why.

All Uno had to say was that perhaps I needed a few more days to fully gain my sea-legs, and that wasn't the lurching of a ship as sea treacherous? I raised my chin and refrained from throwing something at the man - there was absolutely _no_ wind that day! - and walked away. Lurching of the bloody sea my boot!

There had also been another incident that nearly resulted in my demise. I was climbing the rigging innocently one day to clean the crows' nest because it was _ever _so filthy, and not aware of who was behind me. Anamaria must have volunteered for the position that would have knocked my grip clean off the rigging, sending me sprawling a good thirty feet. Thankfully, Will was positioned right below me, and caught me before I was smashed on the deck, pinning me to the rigging and leaving me to stare up at him with no choice but to cling to his shoulders. Jack thanked Will for saving a crew from the nasty job that cleaning up would have been, had I made impact with the deck.

I would have accused Will of being involved, but he was white and very nearly shaking, and insisted on taking me below to make sure I wasn't injured. His exact words were to 'look me over', and unfortunately, that was exactly what he did. He also took time to prod my stomach, as if he were a doctor, and he actually proposed I rid myself of my shirt so he could check if my scar had opened.

"William Turner, if that is your pathetic excuse to try and bed me, you had better think again!" I snarled, shoving his hands off my hips and stalking away. I was beginning to regret the confined space on the Pearl more and more everyday.

The crew's tricks ranged from sending Will down into the cabins while I was changing - or, even worse, 'washing', which consisted of a small rag and a basin of stale water; extremely humiliating in both cases because I had my shirt unbuttoned and I had chased him out topside while brandishing a spoon; it was the nearest thing I could grab - to knocking me _completely_ off the ship for Will to dive in and save me. And dive in he did. I had to spend a quarter of an hour screaming myself hoarse about how I bloody _knew_ who to swim and would he please get his hands _off_ me!

However both of those incidents were impossible to blame Will for. Before for the first, when he walked in on me changing, he had blushed so furiously that he couldn't meet my eyes for two days after that - mind you, that did not stop him from looking at me when he thought I was unaware. And as for when I 'nearly drowned', his words, not mine, he was as pale as for when I slipped - '_slipped!_' - from the rigging. And Will is not a very good actor, or a very good liar, so I had to believe him. In both occasions, the fall and the 'drowning', I was not as scared at I might have been, or should have been, mostly because I was about to chase the crew around with my sword and throw them into a stew.

Jack mildly suggested that they don't threaten my life anymore with their charming practical jokes. I _will_ throttle Jack Sparrow one day.

Now, however, I was quite intent on kissing the man I loved senseless - going quite senseless myself in the process. I don't know if the crew noticed the absence of my screaming at them from below, but if they did, they certainly did not need much to ponder out what had happened.

I don't know how long Will and I sat there kissing but I certainly hope it wasn't _too_ long. I broke away rather abruptly, earning a puzzled glance from Will as I wrapped my hand around his wrist and practically flung his hand away from wherever it was wandering.

"Oh no," I choked out, standing up hastily and brushing past him. Or trying to. He grabbed my hand and wouldn't let me walk away, jerking me back to him so quickly that I almost fell into his lap. Lord knows where that would have led us, with him being so free with his hands - and me being so free with my lips - as of late.

"Will, let go of me…please let go!" I yelped, tugging helplessly and trying to free my hand. I may be able to beat him when we spar - grimly, I noted that I hadn't even been able to do much of that recently - but otherwise I am no stronger than any other woman, and Will Turner is a blacksmith. Hours upon hours of pounding away at white hot metal would have of course built some considerable muscle, but I doubt very much that I would have been able to get out of a grip on my arm set by my father. Bloody men.

He didn't let go; instead he stood up and walked toward me. Evidently if you give an inch, men will take the rest of the world from you, as Will proved by drawing me closer to him. He put his arms around my waist and I had no choice but to crane my neck to meet his eyes, his nose was brushing lightly against mine. I bit my lip and put my hands up to his chest to try to push away, but it was like trying to push away a wall of rock that had decided it wanted to hug you. Which of course did strange things to my innards and I let out a tiny whimper.

Part of me was extremely disgusted with myself. The rest was wishing for flowers to thread into my hair, wishing the butterflies in my stomach would be flying around Will and I instead, and rejoicing in the fact that he was holding me again.

Will, however, didn't seem to think that me writhing around in his arms was a sign of struggle. My head just barely brushed his lips, and yet he was placing kisses on whatever skin was available to him. And no, by that I do _not_ mean the skin exposed by the low cut neckline of my dress. Even I have more self-control than to let this befuddling situation go that far.

At least, I hope I have enough self-control for that…

"Will, stop! Please! I was just fulfilling the bet -" He pressed his lips over mine and I mumbled against them for a moment, finally stopping and clamping my teeth shut, because every time I opened my mouth to say something, he took full advantage of it. Conniving little git.

When he finally paused, and I took a breath to attempt - vainly - to get my heart rate back to normal; somewhere along the line, my knees rebelled against me, so if he hadn't been holding me up, I'd have been sprawled out on the floor, and only the Virgin bloody Mary could have protected my honor then, I'm willing to wager. Stupid dress. I gently unwound his arms from my waist, moving slowly so perhaps he'd not realize that I was attempting escape. No such luck. After a moment he had me back in his arms, kissing me thoroughly again.

This time I hit him to try to get him off me, keeping my mouth shut determinedly. He said nothing, of course, only gathered both my hands in one of his and held them up against his heart. Completely powerless, I decided to wait until he realized that I wasn't kissing him back.

Of course, it took me a while to stop kissing him back. But I managed it, in the end. And it worked. It could have been helped along by the fact that both of us were running out of air, but I'm willing to overlook that tiny little insignificant fact.

"Are you quite done, William?" I asked, aiming for cold formality and achieving only breathlessness. His lips quirked in a smile and he looked happier than I'd seen him in days; I realized that I probably had very much the same look on my face and pressed a hand to my mouth as he took a step toward me.

"Christina, I -"

"Don't say anything, Will. Don't! It doesn't change anything. You still can't ask me to marry you - you promised you wouldn't. And you got your prize…granted, it was a great deal more than I expected to have to give, but you still got it. We're even, now," I said in a rush, my voice muffled from behind my hand. I felt the need to protect my lips, though I knew that if flailing my fists against him did not deter him, small chance that pressing a hand to my mouth would.

"I don't understand." The smile faded from his lips and he looked at me helplessly. I felt my heart breaking all over again, but this time it only solidified my reservation. "I know you don't. But you named your prize and it has been given to you, and I can't give you any more than that -"

"But -"

"I'm sorry, Will, I really am but I can't…" I trailed off, my eyes drifting around the room sadly; I stared at the ill-fated romantic dinner that the crew had provided, and refrained from crossing my arms awkwardly across my dress. I could feel Will's eyes on me, searching, confused, and I felt that maybe I shouldn't have given in to give him his prize. Hell, I _knew_ I shouldn't have, but I did it anyway. I don't know what I was expecting to happen, but not this; of course Will would think that I'd be willing to marry him again. Maybe I was. But I was afraid, too. Saying yes to Will would mean going back to Port Royal. Where my father was, probably worrying for me and feeling guilty. Where Elizabeth was, waiting for him. I couldn't go back there with Will, not yet. Maybe not ever. Because if I saw her again, and if he saw her again…what would I do if I saw them together again? What would I do even if in front of me they barely looked at each other - what would I do living with the memory of what they _could_ be doing when I wasn't there.

"I can't be in love with you again, Will," I said softly. His eyes widened and I regretted my words as soon as they left my mouth.

"What do you mean? Don't you -"

"I love you, and I always will. But I can't marry you, and I can't go back to Port Royal with you - do you know why I left?"

"Because I kissed Elizabeth," he said bluntly, his lips curling downwards as if mentioning it to me was like betraying me again. I shook my head. "You loved her for eight years, Will -"

"No! I didn't! I thought I did but I didn't, you have to believe me, Christina!"

I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest without thinking. "Wont you let me speak, William? Or would you rather just stand there all day?" I snapped. He looked shocked for a moment, then smiled. "There's something I'd rather do that standing here all day…" he told me, stepping closer. I brushed his hands away impatiently.

"_No_, Will! Listen to me! If I married you - _if_ I did, and we went back to Port Royal, where you'll have to go eventually, now that Mr. Brown is gone -"

"Damn ruddy Brown! I don't give a flaming -" I scowled at him and he closed his mouth, glaring right back at me.

"I'd be married to you and constantly wondering if you still loved Elizabeth, Will. I'd be wondering if you and my sister were having cozy walks in the garden whenever I'd be tending to the children or what have you! Do you want that for me?" I demanded, feeling my face head when his eyes widened even further at the sound of 'children'.

"Christina, you have to know that I love you. I made a mistake - one mistake - but that doesn't change the fact. And I would never do anything like that, I'd never to anything to hurt you -"

"You already did, Will. And eight years is a long time to be loving someone, you can't just stop…"

Will seemed to be getting as frustrated as me, on one of my bad days. "Which is why I said I never loved Elizabeth! I love you - we'll never return to Port Royal, Christina, if that's what it takes to have you as my wife! We'll stay with Jack, or we'll move to a new town or something, anything! Please -"

"You promised not to ask," I cut him off, smiling gently. "And we couldn't stay with Jack, a pirates life is no life to raise a family in. And we have no money, Will - as sweet as your ideas of sweeping me off my feet to a new town and a new life are, they wouldn't work. And then there's Mary, she'll be going back to Port Royal eventually, I mean to see her back there. And my father, I can't leave him the way my mother did, it might well kill him. I can't marry you, because one day I will return to Port Royal." It was hard, towards the end of my little speech, and I was surprised at what I had said - logic had never been one of my strong points, but cool logic is what came into play here.

Will closed his eyes and swallowed hard. When he opened them, his gaze was hard resignation. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief, even as I felt like weeping. "When I left your father's mansion to come looking for you, I told him, and Elizabeth, that I would marry no one if you would not have me." His face did not change, but I could swear a satisfied smile was tugging at his lips as I felt my eyes widen.

"Will, don't be stupid -"

He pulled something out of his pocket and walked toward me so quickly that I flinched. "Perhaps you should remember your words," he said softly, pressing a thin slip of parchment into my hand; he turned without another word and walked away. I heard him bang hard on the door leading out of the cabins, but I didn't hear them open it. He didn't come back to me, though.

I opened my hand and unfolded the rough parchment. _Always_, it read.

1

[[A/N: Cheesy, I know. But I'm brain-dead…I can't believe I added another cliché parental plot. ::scowls:: Damn writer's block.]]


	23. A New Approach

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: School started…my fencing coach is making the team practice right after school! That's a bit harsh, if you ask me. ::sighs:: I feel like advertising so here goes: everybody should read _The Wheel of Time_ series, by Robert Jordan. 'Cause those books rock. By the way, there is going to be a lot of reminiscing in this chapter. The problem is, I haven't watched the movie in a while so I forgot some parts that were said about Bootstrap Bill…so, I'm making it up! Yay!

1

Will sat at the top of the steep stairs that led from the cabins to the top deck, listening to the slap of the ocean against the Pearl's hull as she glided through it; it reminded him of the way he wanted to run his fingers through his fiancé's raven hair, the way he wanted to glide along her skin. It also reminded him that he once thought that way about Elizabeth, and, rather painfully, of how those two were intertwined to find him here on a pirate ship with a fiancé who wanted nothing to do with him.

When Christina kissed him again he thought his heart would explode with joy - it had to mean that she would marry him now, hadn't it? But then she turned around just as abruptly as she kissed and told him in no uncertain words that she _couldn't_ marry him, simply couldn't. _Damn you, Turner, how did you make such a mess of things?_ He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and shifted on the stairs, leaning his elbows on his knees and hanging his head.

He knew he loved Christina, but he hadn't realized it until after saving Elizabeth. He knew he cared for her deeply perhaps when she lay bleeding after fighting the pirates - he had never seen her so beautiful as when she was fighting, which struck him as odd; Elizabeth was always beautiful when she was acting the proper lady, her snarl was not attractive to say the least. He realized that if Christina had died then, it would have been somewhat of the end of a world, if not _the_ world, for him. But it wasn't a conscious thought. When returning to the Dauntless and suggesting that Elizabeth return to _her_ fiancé, he had felt a sadness, and the same longing for Elizabeth Swann that he had felt for eight years. Well, maybe not eight years. He _had_ thought she was pretty when they were twelve, but he hadn't wanted her. That hadn't happened until a year or three later.

But for the three days that Christina lay unconscious, her sister hadn't even entered his mind. He spent every waking moment beside her, the ship's doctor had to force him from her side by nearly throwing him out bodily. Doctor Fisher was no small man, which shoulders nearly half as wide as Will was tall, and Will was not short. It was odd to see such a man as Doctor Fisher caring so tenderly for a patient, and Will, when he was allowed to stay, had watched jealously. He had hovered by the door to the cabins even more jealously when he was not allowed to watch.

Will sighed again and closed his eyes. He remembered the first time he had seen the Swann sisters, waking up on the _Dauntless_ after it had fished him out of the sea. If he had known then how much trouble Elizabeth and Christina were going to cause him, he might have chosen to drown.

__

1

Elizabeth was always the proper one, her hair done neatly and her hands folded at her waist, her dress always spotless. She would flutter about in the cabins, bringing him water in a dipper, holding a wet rag to his forehead, sitting beside him on the bed to tell him time and time again how she had seen him in the water, unconscious on a piece of driftwood. Telling him how relieved she was to have found him, and how lucky he was to be alive.

A lot of it, young Will Turner did not understand. He had been drifting about for hours after the ship was attacked. Thirsty and hungry, he could barely remember the huge black shadow that had appeared out of the horizon, with the canons at ready. William Turner Sr., otherwise known as Bootstrap Bill, recognized the ship at once, however. He hustled is son onto a lifeboat as the black ship came closer, impossibly fast. Bill was deathly pale, but calm and as expressionless as a stone could be, maybe more so.

"Get back to your mother, Will. Give this to her."

"But mother is -"

He handed his son a gold medallion the size of his palm, before the boy could protest. "You must never let anyone find this, Will. Never," he said tightly, his eyes darting to the approaching black ship and then back to Will. "Take care of your mother. Tell her I will always love her. You're a good lad, Will."

"But, Da, mother is…"

Bill began to lower the lifeboat over the side slowly, but the ship rocked and there was a huge explosion. The lifeboat fell the rest of the way, landing roughly in the water. Will was knocked out of it, choking and scrambling for anything to hold onto; he never got to finish explaining that his mother was dead - and had been, for two months now. He had, of course, told his father that, upon finding him. Bootstrap Bill Turner - a pseudonym young Will wouldn't learn until years later - was never around much; being a merchant trader was a demanding job, but Will and his mother had always been abundantly supported, living nearly as fine as many nobles. She had died, though, the doctors said from a cold left too long untreated; the maids said it was from a broken heart, missing her husband. It had been two years since Bill Turner had visited home. Will would never forgive his father for that, but he found it hard to hold a grudge. Bill Turner was a father like most boys dreamed of having - he was an adventurer, traveling the seas wherever he wished, becoming richer every day. The men of his crew loved him, and so did the women, wherever the Turtledove_ dropped anchor. But Bootstrap had eyes - and a heart - only for Will's mother. William Turner Sr., was a good man._

Flames licked the air above young Will, and he realized that the ship full of goods his father was commanding was under attack. From the black ship, whose sails had been rotting and full of holes, whose mast was moldy and looked as if it should be falling apart. The only black ship in the Caribbean; the Black Pearl.

Bill had told his son many stories about the Black Pearl. About its heroic Captain, so famous and infamous a pirate that people held in him such revere - or fear - that they dared not speak his name. The Captain of the Pearl was an honorable man, never killing if he could help it, taking only what the crew needed, and maybe a little bit more. He looted towns and villages, but never so that the people were so crippled afterwards that they couldn't survive. There were even rumors that he looted only rich towns, and then gave the booty back to less fortunate places. A Robin Hood of the sea, but always keeping a bit of the profit for himself. Captain Robin Hood, then, of the Black Pearl, hero of the poor folk of the Caribbean.

But from what Will saw now, treading water desperately as his father's ship went up in flames, the Captain of the Pearl was no honorable man. He was cruel, ruthless. Too tired, and frightened - Will was disgusted with himself - to try to climb back up to fight alongside his father, he scrambled clumsily onto a piece of driftwood. There must be a hole in his father's ship, they were sinking.

"DA!" Will shouted. Craning his neck uncomfortably, he was far enough away to see his father dueling with a tall man in a big hat, who had a monkey perched on his shoulder. The man hardly seemed to be making any effort, and Will noticed that his father's white shirt was stained with blood, bright as a banner in the smoky horizon. Bill Turner was a formidable fighter in the best of situations, and he was never a man to surrender. The explosions stopped suddenly, the sea became eerily quiet, Will drifting farther away ever so slowly.

"Barbossa, you bastard! You piece of bilge filth, where is Jack? What have you done to the Captain?" Bill shouted, pulling out a pistol. Barbossa, the man in the big hat, held up a hand lazily as the members of his crew tensed.

"Don't ye worry, Bootstrap, we treated yer Captain well. Gave 'im 'is own lit'l island - but ye won't be so lucky, I'm afraid. Ye can't go insultin' yer new_ Captain and expect to live to tell about it. Now, where's yer pretty wife?"_

"FOR ISABELLE!" Bill shouted; Isabelle Turner was Will's mother. The remnants of the his father's crew, a precious few, echoed the cry and added their own wives', mothers', or even daughters' names. Bill fired his pistol, aimed straight at Barbossa's heart. Will cheered - his father had surely won - but Barbossa barely flinched. Even from this distance, he could see the whites of his father's eyes as they widened.

"Now, Bill, that wasn't very polite of ye. Where's yer wife, and the medallion? If ye don't tell us, we'll find her…and her end might be considerably more painful than yers will be," Barbossa threatened.

"She doesn't have it. I dropped it into the sea. Its at the bottom of the bloody ocean," Will watched as his father leaned on his sword and laughed. "She's dead, Isabelle's dead." Will realized that his father was weeping now. If anything, it only terrified him more. Barbossa looked murderous. "Take this bilge rat to the Pearl, ye dogs! Kill the rest of the crew!"

The explosions had started again but Will could barely hear them. Blackness descended; the world was blessedly cool and silent.

1

Will remembered only pieces of it now, of course, his eyes following the golden-haired girl who bustled about like a busy housewife, the way his mother used to when his father was home. Will tried to sit up quickly, need to tell whoever had saved him that he had to find his mother, had to warn her about the pirates…

"Sit down, little fish," the other girl said, a cool smile on her thin lips. Will had hardly noticed her. She was obviously the blonde girl's sister, but she looked younger. Maybe because her hair - as dark as her sister's was golden - was in complete disarray. It was done in the same style, pulled back, with what once would have been her sister's perfect curls matted around her shoulders, not nearly resembling curls anymore. Her skin was darker than her sister's, as well, and she did not have the perfect scattering of freckles. Instead, she had two birthmarks on her face, looking almost strategically placed on either side of her rather large nose. She wasn't standing demurely with her hands folded at her waist, rather, her arms were crossed over her chest and she was tapping a foot impatiently. She reminded him of his mother, when Isabelle Turner was waiting for his father to get back from having a drink with his mates. Will hoped she wasn't as volatile as his mother could be, when his father came home late.

"What did you call me?" he asked, glaring at her and not sitting back in the small bed. She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Its not every bleeding day some idiot boy decides to take a ride on a piece of driftwood." She was grinning at him now, obviously pleased with herself. Will could feel his face reddening, and watched as her smile grew wider.

"Hush, Christina, the poor boy's still not himself. And you're not supposed to use that word, Father says -"

"Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding," Christina crowed.

"Will, forgive my sister, she's unusually crass today. You really must_ pardon her, she doesn't know how to act the_ proper_ lady." The golden-haired girl was shooting very nasty glared at her sister - Christina, was it? What an odd name, he had never heard it before - who seemed completely unfazed._

__

"Yes, you really_ must forgive me, Mr. Turner," Christina said, sweeping a clumsy curtsy. He couldn't decide if she was being sarcastic or not. Her sister seemed to know, however, and glowered once more. She even looked pretty when she wrinkled her nose, Will noticed of the golden-haired girl._

"Pardon me, but who are you?" he asked the older-seeming girl. Her large brown eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry. How silly of me not to introduce myself - but we were ever so worried about you. You haven't been awake for four nights, you see -"

The dark haired girl, Christina, sighed. "Allow me to introduce my younger sister, Elizabeth. She likes to talk, I'm afraid," she said, every bit dripping nobility in her voice. He blinked at her. So she was the older one, was she? She didn't look it. She was even a little bit shorter than her sister.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "I am Elizabeth Swann - this is my twin, Christina Swann. I'm only the younger by a minute. We're headed to Port Royal, where my father -"

"Our_ father, Elizabeth, dear."_

"Our_ father, is to be the new governor. He has promised to find you a nice job as the blacksmith's apprentice, if you can't find your mother. He says you look strong enough -" Elizabeth broke off hastily, a becoming blush spreading across her pretty features. Will blinked again. He had never though of girls as pretty before, usually he avoided him like the plague. He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably._

"Of course, we weren't sure how strong you were, as you were unconscious for four nights. You could be as weak as a lamb -" Christina grinned again as Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. Will scowled, but his glare was ruined as he stomach rather loudly. He looked apologetically at Elizabeth, who had a tiny smile on her lips.

Christina rolled her eyes. "Please, Mr. Turner, allow me to wait on you, as my sister would rather make a complete ninny of herself," she said, sweeping yet another clumsy curtsy. Elizabeth looked mildly affronted, another pretty blush heightening her color. "Christina -" she scolded.

"Father said we must take care of the boy, Elizabeth, and for once I am doing what he asked of me," Christina replied, loading a plate full of bits of bread and cheese and salted meats. Elizabeth harrumphed quietly, but aimed another smile at Will. He found himself not knowing who he wanted to study more; Elizabeth, who was certainly pretty enough if indeed she had to grow into all her freckles, or Christina, who seemed rather amusing, like she was more suited to be a boy than a girl, especially with the words she chose to use and her dubious renditions of curtsies. She even walked a bit awkwardly in her heavy skirts, made of dreary green fabric. Elizabeth held herself very poised in her own dark gray skirts with delicate embroidery.

"Here you go, little fish," she said with a smile, sitting on the edge of his bed and laying the plate in his lap. "Eat up." She seemed quite content to sit there, watching him. Will shifted again under her gaze; her eyes were odd, the lightest brown he'd ever seen, and rimmed with a dull green. He shrugged uncomfortably and set about eating the food she had brought him.

They did not leave him to eat in peace, however, or rather, Christina didn't. She seemed quite content to badger him constantly, some of her questions nearly making him choke on whatever he was in the process of swallowing. She didn't seem to notice, kicking the ends of her skirt where her feet dangled above the deck. Elizabeth eyed her sister disapprovingly.

"Where were you floating away from so quickly, little fish? We found you by the wreckage of a merchant vessel, all lost and alone. It's a wonder you weren't burnt to a crisp - awful, what those pirates did…did you meet a pirate, little fish? I would love to meet a pirate." Christina was very fond of talking.

"Stop calling me little fish," Will grunted between bits of pork. Wreckage of a merchant vessel? Will swallowed hard. There was probably no hope that his father could be alive, not if that terrible pirate - that Captain_ of the Black Pearl - had taken him. After all the stories his father had told him, it seemed they were all wrong. But something was nagging at the back of Will's mind - why would his father know such stories of the Captain of the Pearl, when it was clear the man was the opposite of what people said of him? What would a pirate want with his father? Will knew that merchant vessels were in danger of a pirate raid - but William Turner Sr.'s ship, the _Turtledove_, was not all that large. And the Captain seemed to know Will's father personally…_

"What would you have me call you then, little fish? Mer-child, my little mer-boy?"

"I am not yours_," Will snapped, shaking himself. Elizabeth took the opportunity to step in. "Of course you aren't, William. You look awfully pale, are you quite all right?"_

"I'm fine. Miss Swann -" he addressed Christina, "I assure you, you would not want to meet a pirate." Elizabeth brightened, after having glared darkly at her sister. "Oh, but we would! It would be so exciting to -"

"You wouldn't! A pirate killed my father, that's how I got here! My father is dead because of a pirate!" Will was sitting up straight and shouting.

Elizabeth became very quiet. "I'm sorry, William - I, I didn't know, I -" she stammered, her cheeks reddening again, and Will suddenly felt ashamed. Christina sighed, taking her sister by the arm. "We should go. Go topside and tell Father that Mr. Turner is awake. I'll clean up his plate and make him ready to meet Father and the Captain," she said quietly, shooting a worried glance at Will. For once, they weren't glaring at each other. Elizabeth nodded and hurried out.

Christina turned to Will, a tentative smile on her face. "I'm sorry we bothered you so much, Mr. Turner," she said, hurrying to take his plate away. She was as dutiful as Elizabeth, it seemed, when she wanted to be. She bustled about in very much the same fashion, helping him sit up and straightening his pillows. "You'll want to lace up your shirt," she said slyly, and he felt his face get hot again. Christina shrugged, absently picking up a comb and fixing his hair. "You're a sight, aren't you, little fish?" she teased, tossing the comb aside after having straightened his unruly dark hair. She came around to sit beside him again, doing an almost perfect impression of Elizabeth by folding her hands sedately in her lap. A worried frown crossed her dark features.

"I have to go to my mother," Will said softly. He remembered the words his father had said. Christina bit her lip.

"Will…the four nights you were asleep…you said things," she told him, struggling for words. "What sort of things?" he asked sharply. She frowned at him. "Your mother is dead, Will. That's what you said…maybe it was a nightmare?" She raised a hand to touch his forehead, but he brushed her hand away impatiently.

"It wasn't."

Christina looked about to cry. "I'm sorry, Will," she said softly, patting him awkwardly on the hand. Thumps came from the stairway, and Christina bolted off the bed like she had been sitting on hot coals. It was only Elizabeth, however. Elizabeth rushed over to take the seat Christina had occupied.

"I asked Father - he said we can go wherever your mother is, to deliver you to her -"

"Elizabeth -" Christina said warningly.

"He said its not out of our way at all, and your mother must be worried to death -"

Christina winced. Will watched as the dark haired girl shifted on her feet, shooting him looks that were apologetic, sympathetic, and pitying. "She's dead," Will said hoarsely, and Christina flinched. Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Oh, no…" she whimpered. Will put his face in his hands wearily, his jaw clenching hard. What would his father say if he cried in front of two girls? But then, his father wept in front of that Captain, over Isabelle. Will was only twelve, and in the course of two months he had been made an orphan.

Without a word, Elizabeth put her arms around him. He couldn't see Christina from where he was. She was crying as well.

1

Will could hear Christina muttering to herself from where he had left her, and he shook himself from his own reverie. If pleading with her was not going to get her to marry him, then he would have to try a different approach. If he couldn't convince her that he felt nothing for Elizabeth, perhaps it was time to try something new.

He had spoken with Jack, Gibbs, and Anamaria a night before last, and the three had given him some interesting advice.

"Yer bein' to soft with 'er," Anamaria said wisely, shooting him a disdainful glare. As if the thought of a man being gentle was disgraceful. Perhaps Anamaria had a strange taste in men, but she was no lily herself. "Ye have to take a cow by the horns, no matter how small and hard to grasp the horns might seem. Only when ye tame the bloody animal can ye go fer the milk," she said. Will could feel his face get hot at the suggestion. Anamaria, of course, saw that, and nearly fell over laughing.

"Yer no innocent, William, and if ye are, I'll eat my boot," she snorted. Gibbs and Jack chuckled to themselves as well. "Aye, Anamaria, maybe ye could teach the lad a few things - I'm sure Miss Christina would thank ye on her wedding night," Gibbs howled. Will glared, "Say it any louder and there never _will_ be a flaming wedding night, you lout!" This only caused Gibbs to laugh harder, and Will's only consolation was that Anamaria was growling and shaking her fist at him as well.

"Ah, no, Will, ye may be the spittin' image of yer da, but ye've none of his luck with women. Isabelle, bless her soul, put up a fight in the beginning, and that's part of the reason yer father loved her - no other woman he'd ever met had tried to resist him, before. Aye, she was his match in many ways, he told me himself…" Jack said, taking a swig of rum and leaning over the railing of the ship. The moon was full and bright, shimmering and reflected in the ocean, the stars twinkling like light seen between the holes of a blanket. Will wished he could have been alone with Christina on a night like this.

"It might not be nice of me to put it this way, lad, but yer just not as much of a rogue as yer father was. Maybe yer boring. Was a time when ol' Bootstrap could get nearly as many women as I did myself. He only looked, though, if that - had a heart only for his sweet Isabelle, if I remember correct."

Will said nothing, only grabbed Jack's rum and emptied it over the side of the Pearl. Jack started to grumble about how Will was lucky his father was who he was, or Will'd be following that rum in a second.

"The thing you have to remember, mate," Gibbs slurred, glaring when Jack took his rum, "Ye have to break a mare before ye can ride 'er."

Will coughed, standing up straight. "Bloody hell! She's a woman, not a horse or a cow!" he shouted, vaguely wondering when Anamaria and Gibbs would have gotten such instruction on a farm.

Still, Will thought, it was about time for a different approach.

1

"_What_ could have possessed me to leave that with _him_!" I snarled, crushing the parchment in my fist and then regretting it. Smoothing the parchment tenderly, I sighed. The man was frustrating to no end! If I wouldn't marry him, then he wouldn't marry? What sort of bullocks is that?

"William Turner if you are trying to guilt me into marrying you, that is low, even for you!" I shouted, rounding the corner to where he was sitting at the top of the steep staircase leading to the top deck. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging in front of him and his head pulled almost level with his shoulders, looking either angry or hurt.

"You are the most _fool_ woman I've ever met!"

Angry, then.

"Excuse me?" I yelled, striding up the steps to stand in front of him and peering down. He was utterly unfazed. Fool man! "I'm the ridiculous one? Am I the one who went chasing after someone who _made it blatantly obvious she wanted to get away?!" _He raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you didn't want me to come after you?"

"BLOODY RIGHT I DIDN'T!" I bellowed. I expected him to get offended, at least; hurt, maybe. But between the five seconds in which it took for me to walk up to him, he went from hurt and bitterly determined to downright stubborn and -

"YOU PIG-HEADED IDIOT!" I wasn't aware that I was shrieking. He shrugged and stood up almost languidly, making me lean on the wall to keep from tumbling. How did the man make standing up so…beautiful? It shouldn't be legal! It's probably not! It shouldn't be possible for him to make me think of nothing but kissing him when I wanted to be angry! Angry!

"Call me what you will, Christina." He shrugged, "I love you. And you _will_ marry me."

My jaw dropped and rattled around on the floor. "I _will_, will I? Well, unless you somehow manage to torture me until I finally _beg_ you to marry me - and you best think long and hard if you want to do that, Turner - I will NOT, William, do you hear me? I will NOT MARRY YOU!"

I heard muffled groans of impatience from outside the door. "Let us out you stupid bunch of useless louts! Let me out! Let me out this instant! Its not funny any more! I am not going to marry him, so you might as well just bloody - give - up!" I screamed, shoving past Will to bang on the door. "BLOODY PIRATES!" I wailed, cut short when Will took my hands gently. My knuckles were red from pounding on the door.

"Don't hurt yourself, Christina." His voice was gentle, not unlike the way Mary braided my hair, after I coerced her into a good mood. I stared up at him with a frown, outraged that this _man_ could tell me - _tell_ me - that I was going to marry him.

"No, I have you for that, don't I?" I said nastily, trying to pull my hands away. No such luck. His own large, calloused hands closed over mine and held tight; he forced me closer in such a way that if I didn't move nearer to him, my hands would most likely my arms would have been pulled out. I scowled up at him, blinking when I realized that he looked just as angry as I felt.

"You can't use that excuse forever, wife."

"I'm not your -"

"I kissed Elizabeth. I did. And maybe, for a moment, I enjoyed it -"

I didn't bother with words. I wrenched one of my hands away and smacked him hard across the face. He turned his head with the blow and closed his eyes, as if expecting more, turning to meet my eyes slowly. Slowly, but not cautiously.

"How _dare _you say that! How do you flaming _dare_, Will?" I smacked him again, harder, but even as he was turning his head, he grabbed my wrist and held it over my head. I tugged hard but to no avail, the more I pulled, the more he made me stand up on my toes to keep from being lifted. I may have doubted he could lift me with just one hand, but with the look in his eyes, in a moment I was about to believe he could lift me using only his bloody mind. I wrenched my other hand free and smacked him across the face, the other way.

"Christ, woman -"

Smack.

"Now you're even," I sneered; then gasped as he pinned both of my arms above me in one of his hands. "Let go of me, William, before I murder you," I growled, nearly shrieking with frustration as he started to laugh.

"What are you going to do, love? Breathe at me?" Even as I brought my knee up to encounter the more tender parts of my _lover_, he anticipated it and skirted to the side. He pushed me till my back was against the wall, pinned with one of his legs between mine so that I could hardly move. I glowered up at him.

"I hate you."

"And I love you. Will you let me finish?"

"This is hardly proper, and I will not be manhandled like this, you lout! You villain! You - you! I am not some _whore_ who can be shoved against a wall! I am the Governor's daughter! I will not have some commoner, some bloody _blacksmith,_ jostle me about so!"

"My patience wears thin, _sweet_ wife, you would do well not to try it so," Will said softly, putting his face very close to mine, the fingers of his free hand gently tipping my head up. I shuddered, hoping he would take if for anger rather than whatever I was feeling at the moment.

"I am not your bloody wife," I snarled, baring my teeth at him. I didn't trust myself to move, I could hardly trust myself to breathe, what, with how my dress was cut. Will seemed to notice that as well, his hand straying to touch my neck. Knowing that he could either strangle me or caress me at his leisure was not doing wonders for my sanity.

"You promised you wouldn't ask," I said hoarsely. He nodded, sadly now it seemed. "I'm not asking." I narrowed my eyes at him. "You wouldn't force me, William. You know I'd never forgive you if you did," I warned. He sighed, leaning forward and burying his face in my shoulder, the way he had when I had spent the night in the blacksmith's shop. I very nearly stopped breathing.

"What are you playing at, William?" I said softly, my hands still pinned uncomfortably above my head, which was probably for the better, seeing as how much I wanted to touch him. Infuriating man! Why couldn't I be angry?!

"I love you," he said again, so softly that the only proof I had of him speaking was how his words stirred the air against my skin. I sighed, freezing as I felt him kiss my shoulder (exposed, because of this BLOODY DRESS!), and then across my collarbone. A light path of kisses up my neck had me shaking, utterly helpless.

"Will, you can't. You mustn't -" I murmured, my hands alternating between clenching into fists and hanging limply in the air. "Let me go," I said helplessly, not knowing whether I was commanding it of him, or telling him that he mustn't let me go.

"I know…I'm sorry," he said, muttering something about how bloody Gibbs and Anamaria were wrong. I blinked, rubbing my wrists awkwardly as he let me go. I stared up at him, confused, my skin still tingling from where his mustache thing had tickled me. I bit my lip, and he looked away hastily. I seized the first emotion that I was willing to give into. Anger.

"What do you think you're doing, William?" I snapped, trying to hitch the neckline of my dress up higher, and stopping immediately when I found I was just drawing more attention to it. We were standing very close to the door, and it swung open before he could answer - and he had better have a very good answer - with Jack's silhouette filling the blindingly bright light.

"We're about to weigh anchor!" Jack announced, just as I tumbled into Will and we both fell unceremoniously down the steep stairs.

1

A/N: Holy crapola, this chapter is long. I'm very proud of it, actually. I love flashbacks.

P.S. For future reference (in response to VagrantCandy, who is a cool reviewer-person) , yes, Bill was present at Jack's mutiny. Then, according to me, he ran away with the medallion. Will found him, and Barbossa was after him. I love it when they don't give enough details in the movies.


	24. Some Sense Knocked Into Her

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Fencing rocks. School doesn't. Damn, I haven't written in a long time. I've been pretty busy…and then when I tried to write I sort of hit a dead end. So I'm sorry if this chapter sucks. Everyone, bother Laura about updating, okay?

As I felt Will's arms going around my waist I wondered vaguely if the unearthly shriek that was chasing itself around the cramped space was really my own. That its literally what was going through my mind as I felt Will slam into the deck with me on top of him. How did I get into situations like this?

I tried in vain to untangle myself from his arms, the neckline of my dress helplessly low. With a grunt and a few muttered oaths, I managed to sit up. "What the bleeding hell was that for, Jack? I think I've broken something!" I snarled, even though I really hadn't. I'd have a good few bruises, but nothing more. I turned around and saw Will still laying on the floor with his eyes closed.

"Get up you lout."

Will didn't react. I punched him in the arm. Clearly, my head was altered from the fall. "Wake up you big idiot! Do you think that you can just shove me against a wall and then fall down a couple of bloody stairs and I wont beat you to a pulp for it? Get UP, William!"

He didn't move. I began to get worried, ignoring the tittering of the crew behind me as they reacted to hearing how Will had handled me. I heard Anamaria mutter something about the whelp following her advice, and Gibbs's obnoxious chortle. "Will?" I said loudly, not sure if he was just joking around and being an idiot for the fun of it, to make me worry. Once, when we were fourteen, we sat in the rafters after one of the lessons in the shop and he'd been teasing me about the powder I'd been wearing - I had had to attend a gathering earlier that day - and I'd shoved him. He pretended to fall out of the rafters and lay on the floor unconscious until I was hysterical before waking up, and then he'd had a grand old laugh about it. But he'd planned that, and he hadn't planned our fall from the top of the stairs.

"You IDIOTS!" I shrieked towards Jack and the crew, who were still at the top of the stairs and chuckling. "Now you've done it! You've gone and killed him, Jack! You bloody idiot! Didn't I tell you that if you kept up your stupid pranks, someone would end up dead!" I bellowed, and the crew fell silent. Anamaria spoke first.

"He's not dead, Princess," she snapped, pushing herself forward and leaping down the stairs - oh, how I wished she'd fall - to land beside Will. Ever so gracefully, I might add. She smacked him once on each cheek, and he grunted painfully. "You'll hurt him!" I yelped, shoving her away. She snarled at me and stalked off to stand beside Jack, who had also made his way down beside us.

I patted his cheek gently and let out a sigh when his eyes fluttered. "Get up, Will," I said softly.

"Bloody hell, woman," he groaned, sitting up on his elbows and blinking at me. I glared, shoving him hard and standing up. "How dare you frighten me like that, Will? It may have been funny when we were fourteen, but I'll have you know that I, at least, have matured somewhat!" I shouted, grudgingly reaching a hand down to haul him to his feet. Not an easy task; Will can be a lardass when he wants to.

"We'll leave ye two lovebirds alone, shall we?" Jack said, ushering the crew up the rickety stairs. A delightful little shooting pain in my rear kindly reminded me just how rickety those God forsaken stairs were; they were more like a bloody ladder!

"Ye shall, Jack - you and your bloody crew should have left us alone since I got here! I've had enough of your meddling -"

"She sounds like me bloody mum," Gibbs grumbled, as he made his way up the stairs. "Ye best be careful, Jack, or the Princess'll be Captain of the Pearl before ye know it," Anamaria said darkly. Obviously she was still sore about all the things I'd said to her. Jack shot her a nasty look and bounded up the stairs - _ladder_ - muttering about women. I turned around to see Will staring down at me, his eyes still squinted in pain.

"Get in a bunk," I snapped. I was irritated beyond what the situation called for, but I couldn't help myself. I'd just went through weeks of the crew's little ploys to get me to say I'd marry Will - which I really, desperately, wanted to do, and not just to get them off my back either - furthered along by Jack of course; and of Mary's little lectures, and Anamaria's lovely little ditties about how I should just bed Will and get it over with. Bed him! Honestly! And my father thought _I_ had a meager sense of propriety!

Will walked stiffly over to a bunk, also shooting a glare at me. I picked up a basin of fresh water - it was a good thing Jack said we were about to go ashore, we were running out of fresh water - and socked a relatively clean cloth in it. "Are you bleeding?" I bit off, wringing the cloth out.

"Are you done murdering the rag, Christina?" Will asked, sitting on the bunk with his hands on his knees. I sneered at him and added some rum to the water. "I'm going to assume you are bleeding. Pretty hard fall you took there, William. Maybe you've addled what remains of your tiny brain."

"Well, it was saving your pretty little arse that my _brain_ was bloody addled!" he shot back. Clever. How very clever.

"Saving _my_ arse? I don't recall being in any sort of danger."

"Oh, that's right. You just flung yourself into my arms."

"Don't test me, Will. Maybe I was trying to _kill_ you for being such an idiot! How dare you speak to me like that! After everything you've done, and then you just shove me against the wall! I don't know how that makes me any more likely to marry you!" I said, stomping over and pulling him forward by the loose strings of his shirt. I clucked my tongue at the matted mess that was the back of his head - he'd have a fine bruise for a week or so.

"That burns, you little wench!" Will yelped as I pressed the cloth - sodden with water and rum - onto his head. "Don't be such a pansy," I muttered, pressing light all the same. He sighed angrily, "No wonder my father spent so much time at sea - if my mother was anything like you, it's a wonder he married her at all! It's a wonder he didn't lose his mind!"

"Oh, very good, William," I snapped, hurt. I flung the rag at him and walked away. It's truly amazing how silently the man can bound up and spin my around. There has to be some maneuver that I could learn to avoid being spun like a top every time he wants to get my attention.

"That's not what I meant," he said, very seriously.

"Oh, all right. That clears it all up and makes it much better. Marry me right now, William Turner! I shall look forward to a life of jeering and insults, and a self-righteous bastard for a husband who thinks he knows what his little _wife _needs -" I spat the word out like it burned my tongue, "- a good solid kick up the arse every now and then - heaven knows that's what I ran away from Port Royal to find. I've been looking for a good strong man to slap around my dignity when I need it!"

"You know bloody well that's not what I meant!" he shouted. He _shouted_. At _me!_ What makes him think he can get a way with that?

"Finally showing a backbone, then, William?" I glowered. It was all I could think of to say. Will wasn't the type of man to go about yelling at women - according to him, women are delicate and should be cherished. You'd think that eight years with me as his best friend would have taught him otherwise. Although, oddly enough, his newfound sense of resolve - instead of his weepy take-me-back routine - was thrilling. In fact, I found myself more willing to give in to him now. But I won't! I must not!

"If you'd like me to show some _backbone_, I'd have you over my knee right now." That was going a bit far. I felt heat rush into my face, but I was determined not to let on. I raised my chin and said in my haughtiest Elizabeth-voice, "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I? I've had enough of your foolishness, Christina. You and I both know that this isn't about Elizabeth anymore. Do you love me?"

"What?" I stared at him in open shock. Changing subjects quickly stupefy me.

"I've got a splitting headache. Do you love me?"

"I believe I've answered this question already. Care to try again?" I said nastily, thinking back to a few short minutes ago - maybe only a quarter of an hour - to when he said that yes, he kissed my sister, and yes, he quite enjoyed it. Was there any point to the existence of men? It didn't seem like it.

Will said nothing, only stared hard at me. Right into my eyes. He looked angry, very, very angry, and I wondered if I should take the dagger from my boot to defend myself. I glared back but after a moment started squirming. I couldn't help it. His question hung in the air like something tangible, something alive and writhing and something I could choke on - would choke on - if I didn't answer him. I dropped my eyes and fiddled with my hands in front of me, or holding the sides of my skirt. _How_ could this man drive me so mad with anger and sadness, and yet still make me want to kiss him, to give in, to bow and be his wife? _Wife_! Me! Cleaning his house and cooking his dinner every night; laying with him and bearing his children and raising his children day after day. Why was that so appealing to me? Why didn't it seem like a life of imprisonment? _Why_ was I finally willing to forgive him for what he did?

"I do love you," I heard myself say softly. I didn't raise my eyes, but if I did I would have seen him walk quietly over to the bunk and sit down again, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I would have seen him struggling to compose himself, to control himself and not ask me to marry him - that was the deal we'd made. Perhaps this story would have ended sooner if he did break his promise and ask me again, one final time. In that moment I knew I was ready to marry Will Turner, and to go back to Port Royal, should he ask me. But perhaps, in the end, it was better that he did not ask, and that he kept his word.

After a moment in drawn out silence I looked up and saw him sitting there on the bunk, just staring at me. I felt the claddagh ring my father had given me before I left hanging heavy on my heart, and wondered why I suddenly became so aware of it. I raised a hand and gripped it gently through my shirt.

I walked over to him slowly and picked up the cloth again, pulling him towards me gently and pressing the cloth to the back of his head. I tried to soothe him when he winced, holding the cloth down gently and patting it. We sat in silence for a while, the only sound was the dripping of the water as I placed it to and from the basin.

"Are you all right now, little fish?" I said softly, inexplicably calm. Will smiled - evidently he felt the same way. He turned to look at me, a bit startled. Then he smiled and I smiled back, and it was as if we never fought. I wondered if this it what it would be like to be married to him - a whirlwind of horrible fights that last for a few seconds and then blew over. Frequent, violent bouts of shouting and anger followed by this sense of peace. I couldn't explain it, it was as if everything was stopped and the only thing I was aware of was standing next to Will and the rocking of the Pearl. It wouldn't be so bad, I thought, if this was what marriage was like. So long as Will didn't go kissing Elizabeth anymore, I thought maybe I could quite enjoy it.

Mary says sometimes she thinks there's more than one person in my head.

I touched the claddagh ring again and thought about what Mary had said, right before I left Port Royal. "Will, I -"

"So sorry to interrupt, love, but we're due ashore right about now," Jack said, making Will and I both jump nearly through the deck. Jack turned around and caught my eye, a very inappropriate smile on his face. Perhaps I wasn't the only one who noticed my change in demeanor. Damn Jack Sparrow and his bloody inopportune moments.

1

A/N: I know this chapter is extremely short, but I haven't updated in months and I'm just getting back into this…spontaneously I decided I was sick of writers block, and this is what you get. I hope I get better…its so weird writing after month of not writing…Damn high school gets in the way all the time. I need everyone's patience while I dig myself out of the literary (ha, that's funny. A mockery of the word) shithole that I've been in for the past…four months? Five months?

GO LUNA! She updated before me. Also, she was the inspiration - inadvertently - for this chapter. She asked me to write for TGOO, and this is what the result was. Sorry babe. I shall try, but I want to finish TYO first. One sodding chapter to go, and its not DONE YET!! I think its because I don't want to part with my beloved TYO characters.

-Crystyna


	25. Planned All Along

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Yay for writing again! Yay for Detective Stabler on Law and Order: SVU! He's such a babe. I'm gonna marry him one day. Moving on…yay for Chapter 25!

- Took some liberties on the island that they land on. So sue me. If there could be walking skeletons, my island can look however I want it to. I'm kind of winging it from here, so there probably will be some inconsistencies…

I followed Jack up to the deck quickly, confused and heart-sore and needing to be away from Will before I did do something I might regret. I heard Will following close behind and tried to ignore the rush in my veins and the rebellious flutter in my stomach. Blinking upon entering the bright sunlight, I gasped as I stared at the island that we were less than half a league away from.

To tell the truth, I'd never see anything more beautiful. It made Port Royal seem like a town worse than Tortuga, and Tortuga like the very pits of existence. It wasn't large, in fact, I'm willing to wager that I could walk its edge in less than half a day, but it was the most beautiful island I've ever seen, and I'd seen my share. Between the Crossing from England when Elizabeth and I were twelve and the adventure I went on with Will a few scant months ago, to the month spent at sea with Jack - was it really a month already? - I was no stranger to the sea.

"What are we doing, Jack?" I asked, watching as the crew unload the lifeboats and prepare to row ashore. Jack grinned broadly, not taking his eyes off the island. It seems that we shared a mutual respect for its glory. "It just so happens that I know the good folk who live on this island, Christina, and they'll be happy to here from me," he said.

1

"Jack Sparrow! What you be doin' back here?" the squat woman shouted, and I found myself wincing along with Mary and Will as she smacked him hard across his face. It seems that the good folk of the island were not as he thought they would be. The woman, dressed in coarse cloth and no shoes, had long dark hair braided down to her waist and dark, deep-set eyes. She had thick eyebrows and, though her height would have seemingly denied any authority, she had the crew on edge as she stood with her hands on her wide hips. Her skin, brown from the sun, made me seem pale and right now her lips were quivering with fury.

Our journey ashore had been a short one, and I had been in a boat with Will and Mary; Will insisting on having his arm around my waist, peering suspiciously at the island and at Jack. Jack, however, had seemed to be in a fine mood, whistling and thoroughly ignoring all the nasty looks that Anamaria had been sending his way. I leaned on Will tiredly, exhausted by the fighting and also from the weeks spent at sea - it would feel good to be on land once again. I almost missed the smile that Mary aimed at me; she seemed happy that Will and I were no longer at odds. To be honest, I was more than happy myself.

"I can explain, Maurya, believe me, I can," Jack said hastily, holding his hands up to fend off another attack. Maurya simply crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Five years my Taeryn do be waiting for you, and you do ignore her. She was to be your wife, Jack Sparrow, in return for the shelter you did receive here. What have you got to say for yourself?" Jack hesitated and Maurya pulled back her fist again.

"Wait, Maurya," another woman said softly. Anamaria had gone to stand next to her and I hadn't realized her until now, she also short but so slender that had it not been for the white of her hair I would have thought her a child. Her face was smooth and nearly immaculate, and she too wore her hair in a braid down her back. Upon her head was threaded flowers nearly as white as her hair, resembling a crown. She looked at Mary and I with interest, a glint appearing in her eyes as she looked at Will. I stiffened, and could swear I saw her grin.

"What, Naneth? This man did lie to us - he does not have a right to claim shelter here again!" Maurya burst out. I looked at Mary, who was staring with wide eyes and the rest of the island folk - tall shirtless men who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, brown from the sun and with dark hair; others were shorter and a bit paler, if not by much, their skin more copper than brown and their hair with glints of red, and pale eyes. I stared too, at the women who stood in various states of dishevelment, in coarse cloth of neutral tones to fine silks that looked worn and dirtied. Women, most of them short with a few here and there that were nearly as tall as the men, all with dark skin and dark eyes, looking like they could wrestle the tallest of the men and come off the better. There were children, too, standing and staring at Mary and myself with equal interest. I felt my face grow hot when I realized I hadn't had a chance to change out of the infernal dress that the crew had made me wear.

"You, of all of us, Maurya, should know that there do be some men who can never be tamed, just like there do be some fish in the lagoon never to be caught," the woman called Naneth said, staring levelly at Maurya. Maurya looked positively furious, her face growing darker as her brows furrowed. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, agitated.

"What's going on?" Mary whispered. Naneth looked over to us, and Mary paled. Naneth, however, smiled, first at Mary and then at me and Will. "I do know your mind, Jack Sparrow, and you shall stay with us. Maurya will be a prickly thorn in your side, but you do deserve that at least. And you will speak with Taeryn, soon. When she is ready." Jack nodded and half bowed to Naneth, and stepped back to stand among the crew. One of the men, a tall sinewy man probably about my father's age, stepped forward.

"The crew will follow me," he said, nodding solemnly at Naneth. I turned to go, but Anamaria grabbed my arm. "She does want to follow her man," Maurya said snidely, and received an admonishing glare from Naneth, who was looking at me. "When we stay here, Princess, the women are kept separate from the men. They only interact during the feasts at night and that -" a grin crept onto Anamaria's facing, making her look nearly identical to the native women " - that is reserved for the brides."

We were led farther away from shore, in the opposite direction from where Jack and Will had been taken. "H-how much farther is it?" Mary panted. The island was larger than I had expected it to be, though still not as large as Port Royal, and it was filled with a considerable area of thick trees steeping uphill. Towards the center of the island was a mountain which Maurya explained almost gleefully was a volcano. Mary whimpered under her breath and I set about cursing Jack Sparrow for his foolishness in having brought us here - and my foolishness in having followed! In having come to him in the first place!

"Here were are," Naneth said, not out of breath at all even for a woman her age. She put Mary and myself to shame. "Excuse me…lady…Naneth?" I said cautiously, raising my chin at the glare that Maurya sent my way, "But…where exactly are we?" I asked.

"What she does mean, Naneth, is when Will she see that fine man of hers," Maurya said, reminding me sharply of Anamaria when she was in a foul mood. Naneth smiled and Anamaria snorted. She had gone to stand with the rest of the women, and Naneth came to stand before Mary and I.

"First you should know that I am no lady. Second, you will see that boy of yours when you do be ready - and only you will decide that."

"How did you -" I blurted out without thinking. Naneth smiled again. "There do be many things that can not be explained in this world, Princess," she said gently, chuckling as my eyes must have widened to the seize of the coconuts that hung from the palm trees. "But this do not be one of them. Anamaria told me who you are, and what you do be with Jack for." I glanced at Anamaria, who was standing stonily now with her arms crossed.

"Tomorrow morning you will come with me and I will teach you something - all tree of you, perhaps," Naneth said, taking in Mary, Anamaria, and myself. Maurya tutted loudly and the other women tittered. Mary sighed under her breath and muttered about how she never should have left the mansion in the first place. Anamaria uncrossed her arms and stared hard at Naneth, then did something I never thought possible for her - she dropped her gaze and nodded submissively.

"What is going on?" I said loudly, rubbing my head tiredly and wishing for nothing more than a nice bed to lay down and sleep in. Having been at sea for a month, being on solid ground was strange, and I found myself not quite walking straight. It increased the headache that I felt emerging slowly but steadily. Naneth smiled. "You townsfolk do be so impatient. Jack do be like that too, and perhaps he still is, according to Maurya."

"Aye, he is," Anamaria said darkly. I sighed. "I can see you wont take a moments rest until you know, so here it is," Naneth said, nodding at Maurya. Maurya stared back sullenly.

"We'll start with Jack, then?" she asked, and Naneth nodded again. Maurya scowled. "Five years ago, Jack Sparrow did come to us, haggard and starving and we offered him shelter on our island. He was on the run from pirates - the demon pirates who had stolen his ship and left him to die. We did know Jack Sparrow from years before, Jack Sparrow and his best friend before they were such big pirates, thinking they did own the seas. They did visit often, Jack and Bill."

"W-what? Bill? Bootstrap Bill?" I sputtered, and Mary gasped. Maurya smiled, almost sadly. "Aye. Bootstrap - your man does look just like him, Princess," she said. "Pity, how he did die. I wanted him for my Taeryn, but old Bill never did love another, except for Isabelle. And so my Taeryn would have married Jack. He did stay here for tree months, he did, and Taeryn was besotted with him. But Jack never could leave the sea," Maurya frowned and pursed her lips. Naneth sighed.

"Maurya does still feel the soreness of pride for her daughter. Taeryn did marry another, and there are happy, Maurya. Jack Sparrow does have only one lover, and she is the Pearl. Jack did leave after his tree months, and we did not hear from him since until now. He did know of our practices, how we live -"

"And it do be this here woman who left us for him!" Maurya spat, glaring at Anamaria. "For him and his Pearl, you betrayed your island. Your sister! Taeryn!" she snapped. Anamaria's eyes flashed dangerously. I blinked. "Anamaria - Maurya is your mother?" Mary said softly. Anamaria scowled. "Maurya is the woman who gave birth to me. I have no mother but the sea," she said nastily, stalking away. The other women let her pass unhindered, staring at her the way one might stare at a stray dog. Maurya ground her teeth. "This island do be that girl's mother, but she did chose to run off after that man, that Jack Sparrow. Naneth, how can you let him stay here?" she wailed, wringing her hands.

"Jack Sparrow is a good man, Maurya, whether or not he and Taeryn were meant to be. He would have brought your daughter nothing but sadness had you tied him to this island. Now, we must talk about the Princess among us," Naneth said sternly, "And her fire haired friend," Maurya bit her lip. She was obviously fuming.

"What's there to talk about?" I asked warily. Naneth smiled, leading me to a clearing where there were huts set up of all sizes, some small and clearly made for one or two women, and one large one in the center. "You must learn that you do have nothing to fear here, child. You will live with our maidens until you do find the time when you are ready to leave - I do trust Jack Sparrow and Anamaria's judgment and if they do say you are strong of heart then you both will be made initiates of our people. There is much I can teach you, and much your young William does need to learn. Jack did say he tried to teach you but it seems you have the will of a mule. And so you will learn from us, little Princess," Naneth said.

"I do not understand," Mary said quietly. Naneth laughed. "The first part to understanding is to never underestimate Jack Sparrow. He did plan this all along, you know. It seems he cares a great deal about you, Princess. But where does the flame-haired women come into all this, I do wonder?" she said to herself. Mary fidgeted nervously.

"No matter," Naneth said, clapping her hands suddenly and leading us over to yet another group of women. "Tonight, we will talk. Tomorrow, I will teach. And now - you must bathe. You do smell something awful."

1

A/N: Doesn't make sense, I know, but eventually it will. I hope. I'm kind of…exploring the boundaries of this story. Weaving past, present, and future "it's a small world after all," that kind of thing. Short again, because its 10:57 and I still have to study for an English quiz. You'll have to pardon the inconsistencies - there are bound to be at least a few - because I am not a professional writer and I can't be bothered to make story outlines.


	26. An Unexpected Meeting

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Mary and I were led to a lagoon where we met up with Anamaria again. She had already stripped bare and was standing in the shimmering water on the other side of the pool. Surrounding the lagoon were smooth rocks piled up to make almost a staircase leading down into the crystal water. Scattered around the edges were willow trees making a curtain. The trees were strewn with white flowers and also provided shade - there were only glints of the sun through the natural canopy, and as they reflected off the water, the pool looked like a secret treasure. I found myself thinking that this is what the pirates should hunt for - a beauty like this, not gold in boxes that could turn you into the walking dead.

"Bathe," Maurya said, and Mary and I tentatively began to unbutton our shirts, looking at each other nervously. The many tiny buttons on my dress were a hindrance, a I glared at Maurya as she stood tapping her foot at me.

"Hurry up, Princess," she snarled. I scowled back at her and muttered under my breath about Anamaria giving me that accursed nick-name. Maurya sighed loudly and shoved Mary and I unexpectedly, sending us tumbling into the pool and shattering the almost peaceful silence.

"What the bleeding hell's the idea?" I bellowed, quieting down when I saw that Maurya held the sword that Will made for me in her hand. She clucked her tongue at me. "I never did see another female who could use one of this infernal weapons, besides Anamaria, and she is not one to compare to. We do not use these here," she said, making to toss my sword into the bushes.

"Hey! You better bloody watch it, woman, or I'll use that on _you_!" I yelped, trying to hurl myself out of the water but unable to do so because of my heavy dress. Maurya just shrugged and examined the sword. "It is a pretty thing. I'll bet you do feel the need to carry this. I am willing to bet that your young man did make it for you, or you would not care so much." She grinned at me and dropped it on the ground carelessly.

"I'm warning you -"

"You, Princess, do not be in the position to warn a toad not to croak. Bathe," Maurya said haughtily and walked away. I snarled at her back but returned to pulling off the heavy dress, as it was nearly drowning me. Only when I heaved the dress over the edge of the lagoon did I hear Anamaria chuckling.

"Something amuses you?" I said sourly, working on unbuttoning my shift. Clean water felt so nice after a month at sea with nothing but stale water and a washcloth that had seen far better days. Anamaria only laughed louder, her long hair surrounding her like a robe. She grabbed and ivory comb from a rock that was curiously blue in color and pulled her hair over her right shoulder. She began to brush through it and she reminded me of Elizabeth in the way that she took such care with untangling her hair. Of course, Elizabeth usually had Eleanor comb her hair, but she always insisted on the utmost tenderness either way.

On Anamaria's left shoulder I noticed a tiny red circle that was too perfectly round it couldn't possibly be a scar or birthmark. It looked as if it was made of ink. Parts of the circle were imprinted darker than the other, making it look like a crescent moon within a circle. I squinted.

"Very few people ever have the courage - or stupidity - to stand up to my mother like that. She used to scare the bloody bejesus out of me when I was younger. My sister Taeryn used to pretend to be submissive, but she'd always sneak off to the other side of the island to spy on the men. My mother never did understand how Taeryn didn't particularly care for Jack, she thought that by Taeryn bonding with Jack our family would be almost revered. Aye. He is a legend here -"

Anamaria broke off sharply, and her eyes narrowed at me; her expression changing swiftly from fond remembrance to annoyance. She turned her back swiftly. I blinked.

"Bonding?" I asked. Anamaria snorted. "Marriage. Just, not as formal as ye townspeople call it. No papers," she answered, still not turning around. I slid my shift off my shoulders and pulled it off, dunking under the water and reveling in its cool caress. Feeling clean was truly wonderful. This was so much better than the tub back at the mansion.

I sighed happily and worked through my hair with my fingers, fully intending to stay in the water until my skin was wrinkled and pruned. Mary echoed my enjoyment as she splashed around happily. I found myself thinking of Will and wondering what he was up to. I felt my face get hot as I realized he was probably doing just what I was and bathing. I dunked myself under again hastily and waited a while before coming up. As I did, I found Anamaria and Mary both smirking at me, eerily identical. "What?" I sputtered, wiping the water from my eyes. "Anamaria says that Will is probably naked as the day he was born right now, just on the other side of the island," Mary said slyly.

"Mary!" I yelped, splashing at her. She giggled so hard that she had pull herself out of the pool and lay on the grass surrounding it so she wouldn't drown. I glared up at her. "That was an awful thing to say -" I started.

"Its even worse to think, Christina! I am going to make you go to confession when we get back to Port Royal. It's not proper for a woman to have impure thoughts about a man she's not married to!" Mary retorted. Anamaria fairly roared with laughter. "What about committing impure acts with a man yer not married to?" she demanded. Mary looked almost scandalized.

"Oh, come now, Mary-belle," Anamaria crowed, using the nickname that Jack had given her. "Do ye think I'm headed straight for the pits of Hell? Whatever bed I set fire to isn't going to get me one in with the Devil. You 'well-brought up' women are far too tense. If ye ask me, Princess, ye should march straight across the island and have your way with William in the forest if ye must. It'll keep his eyes off Elizabeth, that's for sure," she said lazily. I tried desperately to ignore her comment. I tried harder to ignore how appealing it was to me. Damn it all, I was spending entirely too much time in the company of pirates!

"Yes, Mary, and we both know that _your _thoughts about a certain _Commodore_ aren't of the immaculate sort," I hinted, taking the attention off of myself and feeling the slightest tinge of guilt but not enough to help laughter at the look on Mary's face.

She shrieked.

"Anamaria! Christina! Surely not!" Anamaria simply shrugged hauled herself out of the lagoon, striding unabashedly over to where some coarse cloth was provided for us. I waited a few minutes before getting out and drying off myself.

"What's that mark on your shoulder, Anamaria?" Mary asked suddenly. Anamaria looked at her shoulder for a moment and traced a finger over the tiny crescent moon. She smiled sadly. "I cannot tell ye. But, as Naneth promised, ye will know soon enough I suppose." She smiled in earnest now. "Here, I am to show you what ye'll be wearing on this island. As Princess and her honorable guest - the island folk at fascinated by you, Mary-belle, they've rarely seen hair your color before - I'm afraid ye get special treatment. And so -"

She got up gingerly and pulled on the same coarse cloth that Maurya had warn, but when I looked closer I realized it wasn't coarse at all. In fact, it was embroidered with the tiniest of sea turtles and dolphins, and the patterns and stitches were so small and close together that it merely seemed like a homespun dress. As I looked at the dress, I realized it was actually quite beautiful. Not something that Elizabeth would be caught dead in, of course, but I suppose that's why it appealed to me. It had a low scooped neck and no sleeves, and for the first time I realized that Anamaria had put one bracelet on each wrist - and the bracelets were a pale green - jade. The dress would have been quite shapeless if not for the thick band of dark leather used as a belt, which had splayed ends that were braided and had glass beads on the end. Mary and I sat with our makeshift robes wrapped around us, staring at the dress as it if was the most beautiful thing we'd ever seen.

"I hope you don't intend to go near Will wearing that, Anamaria," I said, only half kidding. She grinned as if the thought has occurred to her too. "Don't ye worry, Princess, once he sees ye in this he wont have eyes for anyone else," she said, pulling out a pale white shift from behind her back. It was plain, without any embroidery. It also had no sleeves, and was slit up thigh high on either side. The scoop neck was even lower than Anamaria's. She tossed it to me and I pulled it on quickly, the shade near the lagoon making me feel like I'd rather be dressed - if not appropriately - rather than standing naked with only a coarse cloth as a robe. Mary also wore an identical shift.

Anamaria pulled from behind her back a long green sash and a long blood red sash, tossing the first to Mary and the latter to me. We tied it about our waist tightly, almost like a corset. Finally, Anamaria handed me a bracelet made of silver rectangles and gold lacquered imprints of animals that I'd heard of but never seen.

"Elephants!" I said, astonished. "Are there elephants on this island?" Mary asked, nervously and a bit excited as well. Anamaria laughed - as angry as she seemed before when Maurya was by, the island certainly did soften her. "No, but legend does say that there were elephants here once. That is why we wear them, for luck."

"Well, if they aren't here anymore, how lucky can they be?" I asked. Anamaria stared flatly at me, and I closed my mouth. "Ye're garbed like the maidens now," she said. "This doesn't look to me like maidenly attire," Mary grumbled, fingering the divided part of her skirt, where her pale white legs were exposed. I snorted. "Ye will work with them and sleep in the hut where they sleep and by the dawn in seven days ye will become a daughter of our island, should you so wish it. That means ye can share in our customs and marry by our laws -" she looked very pointedly at me. I looked down at my hands, which were gripping the edge of the ivory white shift ever since the word 'marry' escaped her lips. When I looked up, Mary was smiling at me. But she looked sad.

"Welcome, my sisters." It was the kindest smile I've ever seen on Anamaria's lips.

1

We walked away from the lagoon, but there were no paths through the sparse forest that I could see, and so I had only to follow Anamaria. Mary looked around warily, but couldn't stop her little coos of delight she uttered if we passed by a particularly pretty flower.

"Don't touch any of them, Mary-belle, I do not remember which ones are poison," Anamaria said casually, and Mary snatched her hand back from an exceptionally vibrant tiger lily. "Where are we going?" I asked, not as guarded as Mary seemed to be, but curious all the same. "I am leading ye to the maiden's tents. Naneth will be with ye there, and ye shall share a meal." Anamaria was making a point to be short and to the point. I wondered if she truly was happy to be back home. _Then again, the Pearl is the only home for her, so she insists._

"And where will you go?" Mary asked. She seemed to want to have Anamaria around, as she was the only island inhabitant that Mary trusted. Anamaria grinned at us over her shoulder. "I am going to find Jack and see how long we must stay here."

We walked on in silence, Mary's head spinning about in every which direction, while I focused mostly ahead. We came to another clearing, this one a bit larger and filled with demure brown tents, five in all. Naneth was sitting on a large rock in the center of the clearing that was hit directly with sunlight. She seemed to be asleep.

"You are in luck, Princess," Naneth said, sliding off the rock but making no other motion. Anamaria darted away. Naneth watched her and sighed, not sadly but in resignation. "I always did know that girl would never stay on this island while Jack Sparrow lived," she said softly. Mary and I waited in polite silence, waiting to be addressed. Naneth shook herself out of whatever reverie she had subsided in.

"One of our daughters was married a fortnight ago, and tonight another shall celebrate her wedding night," Naneth told us, not a trace of embarrassment in her voice. Mary coughed delicately and out of the corner of my eye I saw her face flushing again. Naneth's lips twitched but otherwise she gave no notice.

"The maiden's live three in a tent, and you shall share one with another woman not a daughter to this island. I looked past her and saw a familiar blonde head emerge from the tent Naneth had indicated. A woman garbed in a gown similar to Anamaria's.

"Laurelyn?" I gasped. Naneth blinked. "You two did meet?" she asked, looking mystified. "Yes - nearly a month ago!" I blurted, staring at my fast-friend. Mary was surveying Laurelyn's dress sharply, with pursed lips. She didn't seem as surprised as I, but maybe that was because she was envious of the more conservative cut. Naneth shook her head, bemused.

"Perhaps the seas are not as large as we did think," she muttered to herself. I was still gaping at Laurelyn, wonder what on Earth could have happened to find her here at the same time as we were.

"Followed Jack," Laurelyn said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I blinked, and then started to laugh. "Indeed," Mary said lowly. I cast a glance at her quizzically, and was studiously ignored.

"In any case," Naneth said patiently. "You will be sharing that tent, and living with the maidens. You will enjoy your stay here, but you will work for your stay; you will take part in the morning chores, you will help gather herbs and prepare meals, and you will learn, if you want, our songs and our dances."

"Good practice for being a wife, eh, Christina?" Laurelyn asked slyly. Mary smirked at me, finally having let up her glare at Laurelyn. I grinned back.

"Are these all the women on the island?" Mary asked. Naneth shook her head. "The married women stay with their husbands on a different part of the island. The children under thirteen summers stay with their parents. Once a child, male or female, reaches their thirteenth year, the females come here, and the males to the men's side of the island."

"Why?" I asked.

"The men teach the boys to hunt for food and to prepare it, and how to care for a woman properly. The women in turn teach our daughters how to gather good berries and nuts, which herbs are safe for healing, and eventually how to take care of children." I didn't bother asking what if the women would have preferred hunting. It seemed that life on the Pearl had made me more of a liberal, but I held my tongue. Naneth smiled at me. "We do not hunt, because the men cannot bear children and are very rarely adept enough to heal," she said gently. "But sometimes our women, like Anamaria and Taeryn, get restless here. Anamaria fled the island and now she does whatever she pleases. Taeryn, though Maurya would faint to know it, roves around the island with her husband's bow and quiver. Among us we think she is a better shot than him," Naneth turned and went to sit on her rock again. Mary, Laurelyn and I exchanged glances and Laurelyn shrugged. "You may wander the island, but stay away from the men's side," Naneth said, shooting a hard glance and Laurelyn and then, offhandedly, one at me.

Laurelyn grinned and bobbed her head, leading us down to the shore. "When did you get here? _How_ did you get here?" I asked incredulously. Laurel shrugged, "There are always rumors of the Pearl; if Jack knew just how many, his head would swell to the size of this island. I followed the rumors," she said simply. Mary rolled her eyes. "And what, you just walked over the bloody ocean to get here?" she snapped.

"Mary, first of all that's blasphemy and second of all since when do you say bloody?" I asked, perplexed at why she was so frustrated all of a sudden. She turned her glare at me and I almost cowered. She can be a right maniac when she wants too, I'll have you know. "Its nothing," she said sullenly. Laurelyn shrugged again. "Actually, I bribed my way onto a small 'merchant' vessel," she explained. Mary looked like she was about to say something, and something rather nasty, to be sure, but she held her tongue.

"Well, its so good to see you again," I said, and we walked on in silence. We arrived at the shore under a quarter of an hour and I stood, staring out at the miles of ocean in front of me. I was slightly amazed at how far I'd strayed from Port Royal in just over a month. I wondered for a moment what my father was doing, if he was worrying himself sick over where I was. I also wondered, albeit painfully, what Elizabeth was doing, and if she still thought she was entitled to my fiancé. Then I realized that I really didn't care anymore.

I glanced at Mary again and saw her wistfully staring as the waves hit the sand and erupted into foam. She had her arms hugged around her waist and was standing as if she was cold, but unmindful of how our long skirts were billowing around us. She looked sad. I fiddled with the edges of my dress, unsure of what to say.

"Oy, Laurelyn! Why do you have a different dress than Mary and I?" I asked suddenly. Laurelyn grinned slightly. "Was wondering when you were going to ask that." She cleared her throat and met my eyes rather sheepishly. "It turns out that I haven't been completely honest with you - either of you," she said, including Mary. Faint splotches of pink colored my blonde-headed friend's face, which was already rosy from the sun.

"Remember when I said that Jack and I hadn't been lovers…"

"Laurelyn!" I yelped.

Mary turned around sharply and headed back to where our tents were. I brushed a hand through my hair exasperated, and rolled my shoulders back, resolved to find out what was biting Mary in the ass so consistently. But it could wait until later.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I implored Laurelyn, indignant, who grinned wider. "What the bloody hell was I supposed to do? I mean, you were the bloody daughter of Governor Port Royal himself. I couldn't go corrupting your virgin mind now could I?" she asked. I shoved her. "And it didn't seem strange to you that the daughter of Governor Port Royal was at Tortuga in the first place?" I demanded. Laurelyn looked puzzled for a moment, and then grinned crookedly at me again. "You've got a point, you know," she said. I sighed sat facing the sea, washing the waves crash down again and again; feeling confined even before the vast expanse of the ocean. I wondered what Will was up to.

A/N: Boy do I get sidetracked. This story may never end, the way its going now.


	27. Stumbling Upon Truth

Disclaimer: Don't own.

It was a few days later that Laurelyn and I had sat by the shore for hours, just talking about what we had been up to since we had last seen each other. Each day had been pretty much the same as the one before, and Laurelyn, Mary, and I were set about with tasks such as collecting firewood or berries, tending to small gardens, or weaving mats and blankets. Naneth was with us a good deal of the time, telling us stories of her people, of her island, of their language and customs. It was all fascinating, but I found myself missing Will more and more. I longed to be on the Pearl again, and Mary longed to be back at Port Royal, though to me she never mentioned it.

The sun was starting to set when a woman, a bit shorter than I, with long straight dark hair and equally dark eyes came walking up to us, garbed in a dress identical to Anamaria's. She wore a deep blue sash in her hair and from the looks of her protruding stomach, she was with child.

"Hello," she said, in a surprising rich voice. She bowed her head politely and Laurel and I got to our feet and did the same, dusting the sand from out skirts. She smiled. "My name is Taeryn. Naneth did send me to fetch you - it is nearly time to eat." I blinked, trying to place the name.

"I am Anamaria's sister, Princess," she said softly, her eyes shining with mirth. I blinked. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," I answered, automatically sweeping a curtsey. Laurelyn's mouth quirked up ever so slightly, but her eyes narrowed when they came to rest on Taeryn.

"Are you the one who was all set to marry Jack, then?" she asked possessively, the drawl from Tortuga making its way into her voice. Taeryn cocked her head to the side, her eyes flashing in the dimming rays of the sun. I couldn't tell if she was angry her not, her face oddly blank of any emotion. It was a courtier's face, if ever I had seen one. Unfortunately, I hadn't seen all that many since moving to Port Royal, where people were a good deal more open than they were in England, if I remember correctly.

Taeryn's brow creased for a moment and then smoothed, but her eyes remained narrowed - not in anger, I realized a moment later, but in pent-up laughter. Suddenly she smiled, and I could see the resemblance to Anamaria. They had nearly identical smiles.

"It did be arranged that Jack and I should wed, but I am afraid that he fled the island before that ever did come to pass," she said, turning sedately and walking back the way she had come. Laurelyn scowled and crossed her arms, marching ahead resolutely. I sighed and followed, and realized from the abrupt rumbling of my stomach that I was famished.

Dinner was not something that I could have expected. It was almost like a feast. I did not know what the occasion was, but I was grateful, for it this food was a good deal more enjoyable than salted meats and dried fruit and cold water from a secret spring in the forest. There was a great deal of fruit, but no fruit that I had ever seen before. My father was quite straight-laced and didn't normally like to try new things, and so the fruit that we had at the mansion - if any - was safe, like grapes.

On the island, though, the people ate coconuts - something that I had wanted to try but never did - and drank the milk. They ate a yellow fruit that looked like it was made of ferns, and a great round fruit that was filled of small round seeds. There were fruits of every size and color, some sweet, and some sour. I had the unfortunate opportunity to bite into a rather sour specimen, small and strangely orange in color, and when Naneth saw my face she told me, between great laughter, that it was not meant for eating but rather as a flavoring over fish.

Fish was in great abundance; clams, lobsters, crabs and seaweed seemed to be a dietary staple on the island. I nervously took a bite of seaweed - more salty than I preferred, but Mary wouldn't go near the stuff. Laurelyn, who had had more time to get used to the food, was having no problem at all and even passed around bottles of rum which she had smuggled off of the merchant vessel that brought her here.

We did not sit at a table to eat but instead sat on a finely woven mat in close proximity to the roaring fire. There were twelve other women besides Mary, Laurelyn, and myself, all ranging from ages thirteen to at least twenty-five or older. Some had skin as dark as the most illustrious pirate and some had skin only a few shades darker than Mary's. Most had dark hair, varying in shades, and none Mary's color or Laurelyn's. They were all, however, dressed in the same pure-white dresses with scarves of either deep red or green tied tightly around their waists. Most were green.

"What do they mean?" I asked Taeryn, who was sitting next to me, indicating my own red sash. She grinned impishly. "The green is given to maidens who do not be promised, and the red are for those to be married," she said. I felt my face get hot - surely the whole island must know about Will and myself. When I looked up, Taeryn was still looking at me. She was ignoring the laughter and the ruckus the other women were making - a few of the maidens had stood and were trying to teach Mary some sort of dance. Laurelyn was sitting further away from the fire with a half-empty bottle of rum in her hands, staring out in the direction of the shore.

"You should not be so afraid to marry him, Christina," Taeryn said softly, peeling an orange fruit with steady hands and a long dagger. The deep color of the blade glinted in the firelight. I felt the steady wax and wane of heat on my face as the wind changed. I bit my lip. "I wasn't…but you don't know what he did, you don't know -"

"But I do know. And you know that that is a lie; it is not the reason you ran away. Anamaria told me why you came to Jack, why you fled your own island. It does take a lot of one to leave her island - for Anamaria, part of it was Jack, but she was never meant to stay on land. And as much as Maurya does like to believe that Jack did some great evil to me by leaving, I never did love him. Tell me: Why did you leave your island?"

"I left because Will kissed Elizabeth…" I felt my voice trail off and frowned, puzzled. The excuse sounded weak now, even to my ears. It sounded more like an excuse, in fact, and not a reason to leave. I didn't know what made me leave so quickly, now. I was hurt, yes, and I had been afraid that Will would turn to Elizabeth all along…but there was something more than that. I had never been one to give up so easily, and now I felt and acute shame for the way I acted in leaving Port Royal. I remembered how I left in the middle of the night, not giving Will a chance to explain himself. I had refused to see him, after all. And then I had dragged Mary along with me, away. I thought of my father, and how he must have worried. I thought of Will, and what he must have thought upon learning of my disappearance. How guilty he must have felt - I winced when I thought of how he must have felt it all his fault. How much pain I must have caused him in my leave-taking, because of my injured pride and what I thought was a shattered heart.

I stared into the fire. "I left because I couldn't be around him when I loved him so much, and it hurt so much…and because they looked so right together, and he'd loved her his whole life since he saw her…and because I wanted him to be happy and not worry about me," I said quietly. I looked up and saw Taeryn's smile, her hand resting on her rounded belly.

"And he did follow you, leaving your sister behind on the island. So why do you be afraid now?" she asked. I felt strange, like something on this island was making me come to terms with myself. I felt bare and unable to find a place to hide. "I don't want to hurt him. It was so hard for me to put any faith in him, no matter how many times he told me he loved me. And I don't want to ever think he and Elizabeth could…I mean, with me there…I don't want to tie him down." But I was still so confused.

"Try again." Taeryn's voice was soft and deep; she knew a lie when she heard one, but she was not angry with me. Only patient. I bit my lip. "I don't know what will happen to me when I marry him," I said softly, keeping my eyes lowered. "Who will I be? Will I be just his wife, just the mother of his children? Will I be confined to his house, cooking for him and cleaning, and never feeling the ocean again?" I met her eyes, but she was silent. I was suddenly reminded of how Jack had told us that the Black Pearl was _freedom_. Would I ever see her again, then, if I did indeed marry Will? Would I ever be free, or would he change me? Would _I_ change me, and want to be a proper lady, then; a proper wife?

"I have been sheltered all my life, Taeryn. I don't think you know what it is like to be the Governor's daughter and to have a sister like Elizabeth. She is so beautiful and so fitting. I wanted nothing of that when we were growing up. I wanted to play with the stable hands and the cooks, I didn't want to be powdered and coifed. I wanted swords, not dolls; books, not gems and silks. And Will…he taught me how to fight. When I marry him, will all that change? Will I have to be his little wife?"

"Do you believe so?"

I thought about that. Will had told me often enough these past few weeks that he loved me because I was not like other women. Because I had a sharp tongue and could whip him soundly with a sword. He told me he loved me because I was strong and smart, because I challenged him. It was odd, hearing that from him, after he had lusted after Elizabeth for so long. I would have thought that all the traits that made me different from her would have disgusted him, but it was not so. Except for once or twice when we had gone to save Elizabeth, Will had not tried to hinder me. At first he didn't want me to come along, but he didn't forbid it - and nothing would have made me listen to him if he had. I blinked, remembering that day when Jack had asked us how far we would go for Elizabeth, to save her. Will had believed he was in love with her then. I wondered, presently, if he allowed me to accompany them out of eagerness to save her, or respect for me.

And yet, after that he had not tried to master me. Will was not like other men, men like my father and the Commodore, who were not bad men, but merely believed that women had a certain place. They were to be looked at and admired, but protected as if they were made of glass. Perhaps it was Will's humble upbringing as the blacksmith's apprentice, or how he had started to instruct me in swordplay when we were twelve; maybe it was something else entirely, something he mother has taught him, that made him so different from other men in how he viewed women. I found myself wondering then about his mother - she must have been a strong woman, to raise a son by herself and have him turn out as fine as he did. Even if she only raised him until he was twelve. I felt a sudden pang of sadness, for Will and I had rarely spoken of his mother.

"No," I said softly. "I do not believe that Will would be such a husband." Taeryn smiled. "Perhaps things do be different on this island, Princess, but here men do not imprison their wives. They would not live long if they tried to. Maybe you will bring such custom back to your island," she said. I smiled gently, touching the ring that was still strung on a necklace and hanging over my heart. "I do hope so, Taeryn," I told her.

"Come, we must join in the dance," she said, taking my hands and leading me to the fire, where all the women of the maidens' clearing stood swaying in a circle beneath a bright full moon. The sky was clear and strewn with stars, more magnificent than I had ever seen it. Some of the younger girls had been sent to bed, and Naneth stood now, a tiny silhouette of a women in front of a great bonfire. The women must have added to it after the meal. Looking around, I realized that most of the women had red scarves. Mary stood off to the side, apprehensive and eager, hugging her arms around her. Laurelyn stood near her, almost an out cast but not quite, as she was nearer to the group than Mary was, looking unsure of whether she wanted to join or keep Mary company. From the familiarity on her face, it was clear that she had witnessed this kind of celebration before.

Naneth spoke softly, thanking her sisters for joining her this night under the moon. She bent and tossed a handful of dried leaves onto the fire, making it leap with sparks and burning the air with a sweet tangy scent. The native women danced with their arms upraised in a way that not even the common women of Port Royal would have danced. There was such a freedom in the way these women moved, a careless joy that not even I had experienced in all my rebellion. They were women, and proud of it. They were not put down by a society dominated by men - the were female, and exalted. I watched Taeryn, who was married and with child and still joyous and free. I watched Laurelyn, whose hair was shining like gold in the moon and firelight, who was so sure of her love for Jack and still so incredibly happy. I made my way over to Mary.

"What is this devilry?" she asked shakily, trembling. I smiled, wanting to throw my arms up and run about the clearing with everyone else. "Look at them, Mary. They are not like us. They don't have to suffocate in corsets and powder themselves up to be beautiful. They are like goddesses, nymphs. They do not bow to men," I said happily.

"It is sinful," she said stiffly. "It is not their place." I had never before been so divided with Mary. Of all people, I thought she would want this most of all. She, who had been a maid all her life, was turning down a chance to throw down inhibitions and be free from the sovereignty of men. But instead she crossed her arms over her chest and stood with pursed lips. "You are not going to join them, are you?" she asked me pointedly. "It is positively sinful," she continued, shuddering. But I didn't think it was, and told her so. "This is the way Port Royal should be, Mary. This is the way _we _should be."

"Heathendom is not something to be aspired to. Especially for one such as yourself, miss," she said quietly. She was glaring at Laurelyn, whom she seemed to have a deep seated anger toward. Even at Tortuga things were tense between them. After all, Laurelyn ran her own shop and had been Jack's lover when she was clearly not his wife. Any woman brought up in a society such as Port Royal's would feel disapproval towards some such as Laurelyn. Except me.

I sensed that Mary would not change her mind, and I didn't want to desert her, so I watched as the silhouettes flitted among the firelight with my arms pinned lifelessly at my side. I knew then that Taeryn was wrong, and none of these customs would ever make their way to Port Royal.

1.

Shortly after, while Taeryn searched my eyes anxiously as if inquiring as to why I hadn't joined everyone else around the fire, we were led to the tent where we would sleep. Mary walked in first, calmly but meeting nobody's eyes. We were to sleep on mats woven of large dried leaves, on soft sand. The night was cool, but in the center of the tent - which was larger than it looked - was a small piled of coals on which water was periodically sprinkled to produce steam and heat. We were also supplied with two blankets which was more than enough to keep us warm for the night.

Naneth bade us goodnight and left, taking Taeryn with her. Laurelyn was awake, but she sensed Mary's discontent and wished us a simple sweet dreams before laying herself down to sleep. Mary muttered something in reply and hunched down to sleep. I sat down and thought about what Mary said, how the island life was sinful. I didn't think anything so lovely could be sinful. The stars themselves seemed to shine brighter over this island than they did over Port Royal. Perhaps this island was magic, and that was what Mary feared.

I laid down and sighed, knowing that Mary really wished to be back at Port Royal. I resolved to tell Naneth that we must leave as soon as possible, as regrettable as it would be for me. I would have liked to stay here for a while to learn about the island, but it was my fault that Mary was here, and I would not keep her here longer. It was selfish of me to ask her, and I realized that now.

I drifted off into dreams filled with bonfires and large pink flowers; where I danced under a pregnant moon and Will saw me. In my dream I wasn't at all abashed, in fact I kept dancing, away from him, where he would follow. And follow me he did, into the forest, through it and to the shore where the Pearl was visible as she was anchored in the natural harbor that I hadn't noticed. In my dream we must have been on a different side of the island. Will caught me and danced with me as the waves lulled in and out and I told him, softly, that I would be his wife so long as we stayed here, on this island, and I never had to wear a corset again.

I awoke with a start, staring up at the dark black of the tent's ceiling. My first thought was of the sword that Will had made for me, and how I hadn't seen it since earlier this week. How could I have forgotten so easily? I sat up; suddenly it was incredibly important for me to find the sword that Will had made for me. It couldn't possibly wait until morning. I pulled my boots on and held a blanket close around my shoulders, for once outside the tent the air was colder than I had expected. The light from the moon and the stars was enough to see by in the clearing, but I knew it would be a good deal dimmer once under the trees. And yet, I found I had a task to perform, and nothing could persuade me to stop, even the eerie darkness of an unfamiliar island. However, I relied on the words that Taeryn had spoken to me just a few hours ago, how women on this island were not imprisoned. I put my faith in her words and walked resolutely in the direction where I thought the lagoon might be. There was no opportunity to find a torch, and I knew without a doubt that I was not allowed to be out and about at this time. I wished I had my sword, but that was what I was going to find. With a sigh of resignation, I picked up a thick branch from the ground. It wasn't as reassuring, but it was better than nothing. I reached down and pulled the dagger from my boot, tucking it into my waistband. After all, it was dark, and it would be like me to stumble and fall on my own dagger. At least sheathed at my waist it presented less of a danger to me.

I walked for what must have been hours in the forest, in some places a disconcerting silence oppressed me, and in others the forest's night-sounds surrounded me. I didn't know which I preferred, but the forest's voice wasn't particularly ominous, and so it was better than the silence that sounded as if the world had had its breath stolen.

I felt the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck raise suddenly and pulled out my dagger, walking more carefully. The moonlight lingered through the patches of the trees, but it was hardly a good source of light. I came upon large dark shapes that I slowly recognized for the stones that surrounded the lagoon and set about looking for my sword. I was so immersed in my task that I almost didn't register the snap of twigs beneath me, unnatural in the clearing that surrounded the lagoon. I spun around with my dagger held ready, fully aware that I wasn't really skilled in its use, my skin crawling.

"Show yourself," I said stiffly, my voice a good deal more steady that I would have thought. There was a dark figure to my left and I turned to face it.

"Christina?" came Will's voice from the shadows. I dropped the dagger in surprise and launched myself at him, relief making my limbs go weak. "You enormous idiot, how dare you frighten me like that!" I yelped, flinging my arms around his shoulders and laughing as he lifted me up to kiss me. He set me down abruptly and rubbed the back of his neck, but I wouldn't allow him to feel awkward. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth, taking him by surprise. And he was very surprised, but not so much that he couldn't react. His arms went around me as he kissed me back; his hair longer and his face rough with whiskers as he wasn't able to shave. His skin was hot as if he'd been sunburned and I realized that he wore his shirt unlaced completely. I broke the kiss swiftly, unsure and flustered, but he wouldn't let me go. I felt more breathless than if Mary had laced up my corset with a vengeance.

"Will, what on earth are you doing here?" I asked giving in to having his arms around me and his face nuzzling my neck. He smiled and kissed my shoulder, making me gasp. "Will," I said softly, pushing him away and taking a step back. I wondered suddenly if the drink - some sort of fruit wine, different from the ice cold water we usually got at meals - was what was making me so lightheaded. I sat down suddenly, because my legs couldn't support my body, and Will sat beside me.

"I've missed you," was all he said. I smiled and crawled to sit closer to him, forgiving him for everything that I never should have been so angry over; hoping he was forgiving me at this very moment for all of my fears. "I've missed you too, Will," I said, hoping against hope that he would ask me to marry him right now, because in this moment I was sure I would accept. He didn't though, just stared at me with those dark eyes of his, and I felt content anyway, because he was keeping that stupid promise that I had forced on him, the day we dueled on the Pearl.

He reached over and held up something made of metal and glinting in the pale moonlight. I saw the raven engraving and realized that he had found my sword. "Why did you throw this away?" he asked, and I could hear the hurt in his voice. "Oh, Will, I didn't! It was that awful Maurya, she found it and she flung it somewhere," I told him, taking it and feeling its solid weight in my sword hand. I held it and stood up, offering Will my hand. I led him to the shore, where the moon shone all the brighter, and we watched the waves roll in and out. I wasn't quite sure if I was dreaming or not, I felt so happy. I placed down my sword and my dagger and stepped out of my boots and left my blanket folded among them, leading Will down to the surf where he chased me among the waves. I was blissfully unaware of the chill of the night, feeling only the warmth of the sea as it swirled around me and the salt of Will's kisses as we tumbled among the waves. Later, we would speak but for now there was no need for words. I lay among the foam as it washed over me, drenching both Will and I. I ignored how my dress was the pure white that all the maidens must wear and pulled Will down to kiss me again; not awkward, not desolate, not angry or helpless but strong and peaceful, the way things feel when they are meant to be. As we staggered from the sea and slept curled in my blanket to dry in the dawn, neither of us noticed the small ship on the horizon, headed straight for this island I was beginning to think of as another home.

A/N: People asked for an update by Valentine's Day and I'm sorry I couldn't deliver. School's been hectic but here's an update, finally back on romantic track. I hope you all enjoy! Muchas gracias to MadAniviel, whose many reviews caused me to get up off my ass and finish this chapter. I apologise for any inconsistencies, but I had to change the timeframe really quick and I'm not sure if it all agrees. Review if I screwed up somewhere and you'd like to tell me. x Review anyway, though, please!


	28. Propositions

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: You all will have to forgive me for this chapter. I was thinking about it last night, and I _know _how unbearably typical it'll seem, but it just wouldn't get out of my head and this is the way I want it to go.

"Christina, wake up." I heard Will's voice softy in my ear and I rolled over, trying to get closer to him, not wanting to open my eyes just yet. We had slept on the sand just out of reach of the ocean, but the sun was high and bright now and with a faint sinking feeling I realized that I had just broken a big rule of this island. I wondered what was going to happen to me.

As I rolled over again at Will insistent murmuring, I realized that we had bigger problems to face. The tiny boat on the horizon had grown considerably larger since earlier this morning - for it was well pass midnight that Will and I had stumbled upon each other - and now I saw an even smaller rowboat heading straight towards us.

"Who're they?" I slurred, rubbing the sand from my eyes and sitting up. I noticed Will's eyes pass over my body and I felt my face heat even as I pulled the blanket we'd shared over my shoulders. Will hadn't betrayed my honor last night, though I was sure there were times when we had come awfully close. Thinking that only made me blush deeper, however, and I shoved those thoughts away. They were for after the wedding, provided there was on. I wasn't sure there was a way out of that promise Will had made me. Once again I was cursing myself for my foolishness. Will grinned cheekily at me and pulled me to my feet, taking the blanket from my shoulders. "It is much to hot for you to be wearing this, miss," he said, his eyes twinkling. I snorted. "I'm so sure, Mr. Turner," I retorted. Let him have his fun, then. I owed him that much at least.

I heard a rustling before us that ruined the peaceful romantic mood between Will and myself. To be completely honest, I was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, not sure what to say to Will after having been so used to being angry with him. Will and I turned around to see Jack emerging from the outskirts of the forest and ambling on over to us.

"Ye," he said, pointing to me, "are about to have yer arse skinned and roasted."

I sighed. "I figured as much. Where is that old bat, Maurya? I suppose I'll have to hear it from her," I said. Will tensed. "What are you bloody talking about, Jack? She hasn't done anything wrong." I could tell that he had adapted to yet another change in our relationship with apparently no trouble at all. Here he was, back to being my valiant protector.

"Not Maurya, love. Naneth. She's going to have yer hide when she catches up with ye…And William, ye great yuppie, she certainly has done something amiss. She broke an island rule, after agreeing to be sworn in." I blinked. "Sworn in? Sworn in to what? I never agreed to anything!" I objected, standing stiffly and looking around for Maurya. I couldn't possibly see how Naneth could cause any harm to me - she was tiny. Maurya, on the other hand, made up for her short stature with her wide girth, and I'd seen her wield a switch when she had to. I winced and pressed a hand to my rear; I was sure to get a beating. I'd seen another of the girls get caught after sneaking away during dinner to meet her betrothed, and she wasn't able to sit properly for three days after what they'd done to her. And she came back! I, on the other hand, had spent the entire night out.

Jack nodded, smiling sympathetically. I must have been wearing my apprehension on my face. "I've been on the receiving end of one of Maurya's tantrums myself, Christina, it isn't fun. But Naneth…Maurya is nothing compared to her."

"Thank you for the encouragement, Jack," I said sarcastically. He shrugged, "Just warning ye,"

"They can't do anything to her. I wont let them," Will said valiantly. I sighed again. "Couldn't we just leave the island, Jack?" I asked. Jack shook his head. "We can't, and ye know damn well we can't. Ever since you bathed in their lagoon, ye swore to become one of them. They're going to treat you as their own now."

"Yeah, well, they could have _told_ me that being one of them required having my hide tanned _before_ I jumped in the bloody lagoon," I said nastily. Will was still standing tense and looking about for Naneth. I smiled up at him. "Don't worry about it, Will. I've gotten into plenty of trouble before, and Father told Henry to whip me for it on occasion," I said, trying to reassure him. This only served to make him angrier, however, and he opened his mouth to say something scathing about my old butler.

"Ah, hush up, William, the chief'll have something to say to ye too, I'm sure, and neither you nor Christina will be able to sit much on the Pearl as we head back to Port Royal," Jack said, suddenly jovial. I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest.

"They wont be aboard the Pearl back to Port Royal, Mr. Sparrow," came another voice. Jack, Will and I all spun around so fast we almost tumbled over, and before us stood Commodore Norrington, First Mate Gillette and, oddly enough, Richard Millar.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered, glaring at Richard and wondering what in the hell he was doing here. Jack barked a laugh. "Commodore, caught up with me at last, have you?" he asked, inconspicuously putting an arm around me, to Will's chagrin.

"What are you doing here, Norrington?" I said rudely, remembering how he had hurt Mary. The Commodore's lips tightened for a moment, but Gillette looked amused. Richard just looked like a wolf watching his prey, and although he wasn't looking at me in particular, I felt uneasy all the same.

"Believe or not, Miss Swann, this is not about you," Gillette said with a smirk, which I returned nastily. Commodore Norrington's face looked as though he had been carved from a mountainside. "Where is Miss Pearl?" he asked. I blinked. Miss Pearl?

"Where is Mary?" he repeated quietly, seeing my confusion. I scowled and stepped forward, placing myself between him and Jack just incase he intended to throw me off. After all Jack had done for me, I wasn't about to let him get arrested and taken back to Port Royal in irons.

"I don't see why that is any of your concern, _Commodore_," I snapped. Will put his hand on my shoulder by I shrugged it off, not wanting to be pacified at the current moment. The Commodore sighed. "It definitely is my concern, as I came here to return both you and Miss Pearl to Port Royal. Your little flight was extremely selfish, but what else can be expected of you, Miss Swann? Instead of waiting logically for an explanation as to what transpired between your sister and Mr. Turner, you have opted to run off with pirates and leave your father worried sick for the past months." He sounded as if he had wanted to get that off his chest for a while. I felt like he would have been kinder had he slapped me, and I was not going to be scolded by the likes of him.

"Once again, Commodore, that is not any of your concern."

"No, I suppose you're right, and it isn't," he said tiredly, passing a hand over his eyes. I opened my mouth, at a loss. "I have come, however, to apologize to Miss Pearl," he continued. Jack, Will and I were silent. Jack was, as usual, the first to recover.

"Right! Well, that is a beautiful sentiment, James. D'you mind if I call ye James? Yes? Alright, Commodore, then. If that's all ye came to do, I'll just be on my way to round up my crew and leave ye in peace," he said. Jack wasn't an idiot; he didn't live for daring escapes from the jaws of almost certain death. Or perhaps he did, but he wasn't willing to toss his crew in the balance. Later, I would feel honored to have known Captain Jack Sparrow. Now, however, I was distraught. The Commodore, scrutinizing Jack for a moment, did something I doubt anyone would have expected. He nodded his consent for Jack to leave. Gillette smiled. Richard looked complacent, like the cat who'd eaten the cream. Or the canary. Whichever cats preferred more.

"Oh, Jack, you can't leave! I don't want to go back to Port Royal with him! He must be lying! Where is your crew, Commodore?" I asked. Gillette chuckled. Commodore Norrington looked slightly affronted, but not as if he wasn't expecting it. "Haven't brought one," he said simply.

"Horse dung."

Jack and Gillette roared with laughter. "D'you see that boat over yonder, Miss Swann?" Gillette asked, clutching his sides. "She's not even fit to be called a ship. That's what we sailed here on, and that's what we'll be taking you, and Mr. Turner, and Miss Pearl back on. There's hardly enough room for all of us, and its certainly isn't want you're used to, but you'll have to make do."

"W-what?" I sputtered, trying vainly to make sense of things. If Norrington hadn't brought a crew, then he couldn't have wanted to capture Jack and his crew…it was possible that he was telling the truth, and that apologizing to Mary was all he truly wanted to do…

"What's _he_ doing here, then?" I snapped, gesturing angrily to Richard.

"I have a proposition to make, Miss Swann. A proposition for all of you, as it is, but the decision shall rest with Miss Swann. Christina." I shuddered at the way he said my name, and Will tensed again.

"Christina," he repeated. "Will you marry me?" Everyone was silent, and I instinctively grabbed Will's arm before he could launch himself at Richard and tear his throat out. Which is quite what I felt like doing at the moment.

"Have you bloody _lost your mind?_" I asked.

"Guess that's a no, mate," Jack put in helpfully, looking a bit angry himself.

"No," Richard said confidently, "I haven't."

"Then do explain yourself," I demanded. He smiled widely. "I shall be happy to oblige you, dearest." I held on tighter to Will's arm.

"You see, I couldn't possibly let _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, the most fearful pirate of the Caribbean, get away unscathed - what upstanding gentleman of Port Royal would I be if I had?"

"You are no upstanding gentleman at all, Mr. Millar," I said harshly. He smiled again. "Of course. But nonetheless, you will have to hear me out. I knew our wonderful Commodore had given up on his detached and emotionless life, all because he met a wonderful red-haired young lady by the name of Mary Pearl. She is a good friend of mine, you know, and standing right there behind you, Christina," he said suddenly. I turned around to see Mary with her hand pressed to her heart, her eyes wide and staring at Commodore Norrington.

"Mary -" he said.

"James? What are you -"

"Hush," said Richard nastily. "I knew the Commodore had gone soft. And so I offer you all this: Should Christina consent to be my wife, I shall not speak a word of Jack Sparrow being allowed to sail free. The Commodore can keep his reputation, his job, and his _life_, for it is treason to aid the escape of a pirate and you've already got one strike against you, James. Mr. Turner can go on hammering away and making those lovely little weapons, Jack can sail off to pilfer and plunder wherever he wishes, and Christina Swann shall be Christina Millar, the mother of my many sons."

"Never," Will said. "Ah, but that is not your choice to make, Mr. Turner," Richard taunted. "You're mad. My answer is the same as Will's. Who's to say whether I wont gut you right now, you bastard, and leave you here to rot so you wont be able to tell anybody anything at Port Royal?" I snarled, holding up my sword.

"I thought you might say that," he grinned, pulling out his own sword. He addressed Will. "A duel, then? Winner takes Christina as a wife."

"That is preposterous," said Norrington.

"Ye shouldn't have said that, mate," Jack said darkly, watching me. Laurelyn had emerged from the forest and was standing by Jack, looking as outraged as I felt.

"I'll bloody tear you apart!" Will shouted.

"You scoundrel," said Gillette, looking extremely offended on my behalf. Mary had her hands on her hips and was looking sick and angry. Later, she would tell me that I had looked like a harpy in that moment. But now, I was seeing red. Deep, angry, blood red.

"I am no prize to be won! And I don't need you to defend me, William!" I shouted. "If anyone is to fight for the right to marry me, they will fight _me_, and even then if I lose I will _not _be claimed as anyone's wife! Do you wish for death, Richard Millar, because in this moment I _will_ grant it to you!"

"Fight you, then?" he said to himself, a smile spreading once again. He looked manic, he looked mad. "His father's death has unhinged him," Mary said fearfully. "Be very careful, miss," she called.

"All right, I accept your proposition, Miss Swann. I will duel you, and you will be my wife."

"No, Millar. I will duel you, and you will die on this island," I said angrily, outraged that anyone even suggest that they duel over me. Over the _right _to call me wife. Over the right to my body and my children, because they are what come with my promise of a marriage. Will grabbed my arm, and Jack stood in front of me.

"Let me fight him, Christina, it is for me to defend your honor!" Will said urgently. I raised my chin, "Do you doubt me, Will? Do you think I cannot win? I have beaten you before, William, it would be wiser if I fought." He looked unspeakably angry. "Do you think I would give in to this whelp even if I did lose?" I asked gently, touching his face and leaning up to kiss him on the lips. "I shall injure this little bug today, but I will never marry him. I won't marry anyone but you, Will."

"As nice as that is, Christina, he could really hurt ye. Let me fight, ye have not beaten old Jack," Jack looked worried. He was a pirate, he could practically smell tricks and loopholes and later he would tell me that that was exactly what he was worried about right now. I shook my head, and Jack looked as if he were about to beg me. Commodore Norrington and Gillette walked over, making the same requests - that they be allowed to fight instead of me. Gillette even went so far as to forbid me from fighting. At Port Royal, all this would seem strange and even barbaric, a duel of this nature. But here, on this island, so far away from what I called civilization there was nothing strange about it. Richard Millar had accosted my dignity, and I was going to punish him for it.

"Do you give your word that you will uphold the regulations of this duel?" he asked me. I laughed and pulled my hair back, tucking the long ends of my sash up so they would not hinder me. "I do not," I answered. He shrugged. "It matters not. I shall enjoy dueling with you, Miss Swann, and when you marry me you will remember this duel as your last."

"No, Richard, I fear this duel will be _your_ last," I growled, getting into position. "Let go of your rage," Laurelyn called, and that was the last thing I heard before slipping into a void where nothing existed but Richard's blade and my own.

Realistically, he wasn't much of a fighter. He was skinny and he was made more for work as a butler than as a swordsman. I knew this, but I would allow him to think he had the upper hand. He was sloppy, and as he thought he was winning he became sloppier. I could vaguely here Will shouting at me to be careful, at Jack shouting for me to fight _better_, and somewhere along the way Anamaria had shown up with Naneth and Maurya all of whom where yelling at me along with Laurelyn and even Mary. But individual words were beyond me, beneath me. I could here my heart beating, not nearly has fast as when I had dueled Jack or Anamaria or even Will. I was being careful, and Richard thought he was winning. He swung his sword wide, hoping I suppose to disarm me. I followed his blade in a full circle and beat back with all my strength, all my anger. He dropped his sword and I brought mine level with his neck.

"You will not have me," I said softly. His eyes were wide, but he quickly brought his face under control. "I don't know why you would even ask. I am not my sister."

"But that is why I asked," he said, grinning now even as my sword point pressed into the pulsing vein on his neck, ever so lightly. "I remember when my father was alive, how he used to tell the both of you stories before you went up to your room. I sat with you too, in the den, and I watched your face and your sisters; I watched how yours' seemed to glow in the firelight as you drank in every word my father said, and how Elizabeth seemed as though she would forget each story as soon as her head hit a pillow. And now he has died, killed by pirates, and I am here to save you from them like I couldn't save my father. I would that you would look upon me as if I had told you a story, but I will settle for your such spirited anger. For now," he said. I took a step back, thrown off guard. Mary was right, his father's death had unhinged him, and although it wasn't enough for me to forgive the fact that he'd offered first and ultimatum for me to be his wife and then a game, I knew what it was like to lose a parent.

The only difference was that it hadn't turning me into a raving lunatic.

The rest of Jack's crew had gathered here; Anamaria must have gone off and told them what was happening because they all came with their guns. The island folk were gathering too, I saw Taeryn leading them now, a sling in her hand and a woven bag of stones slung over her shoulder, her free hand pressed protectively on her stomach. She was walking with a tall, dark man with long dark hair by her side. He wore a dark red sash around his head, holding back his unruly hair. He must have been her husband, the way he walked so protectively and possessively, though the possessive air dropped as soon as she looked at him. Glared was more like it, truth be told.

I turned back to Richard and said, "I am truly sorry for your father's death, Richard, he was a good man. I cared for him, as did my father and my sister, and perhaps it is in some way our fault that he died, if that is what you would like to hear. But I cannot help you, and I will never be your wife."

He tilted his head to the side. "I knew you would say that, too." I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to walk away, but I froze when he called out, "Come out, men." Will and Jack hurried up to me, each with a pistol in his hand. Gillette joined them, and Commodore Norrington, who was holding onto Mary's arm and looking much the way that Taeryn's husband did. Wary and protective, like a male-wolf would look after his consort and her cubs.

A group of twenty men came out from the shadows of the forest, fully armed. I gasped and stood beside Will, even as he tried to push me behind him. I glared at Richard, angrier now than I had been before the duel.

"You would force me to marry you? With these apes as you soldiers, you would force me at gunpoint to say I would be your wife?" I demanded. Richard shrugged, his eyes so wide that the whites could be seen all around the pupil. I shuddered, then, for the first time truly afraid for my fate.

"I would rather die," I spat. Richard's face hardened. "That, my dear, can obviously be arranged. Mercenaries are a wonderful tool, and my father left me just enough inheritance to hire these 'apes.' They aren't much, but they suit my purpose," he explained.

"But would you sacrifice the lives of dear William, and Jack, and the Commodore, just to avoid marrying me? Mary, your precious island folk, the crew, and that buxom blonde who appears to have joined your side?"

"It's Laurelyn," said Laurelyn.

"Laurelyn?" came the voice of one of those apes. She peeked out from behind me. "David?" she gasped, as the least-hairy, least-filthy, least-toothless and least-disgusting of the apes walked over, straight-backed and proud and at least six foot five. At the very least. With David came nine of Richards mercenaries. The other ten, looking like quite the pathetic little group, milled about mumbling.

"Oy! What the bloody hell's the idea?" shouted Richard, his smart plan unraveling before his eyes, and before mine as well. I leaned on Will and felt the breath go out of me, utterly relieved.

"Yeah, what's the idea?" Jack grunted, looking over at Laurelyn, who was talking animatedly with David. She met his eyes and then winked at me. "Well, Jackie, you can't've expected me to stay celibate while you were off plundering or what have you…" she started.

"Laurelyn's been a lover o' mine," said David fondly, touching her hair. "She owns the best pub I've ever been to, and I've been to a lot." He sounded so proud. Laurelyn grinned, obviously watching Jack for his reaction. "Yeah, mate, well so've I," Jack said, grabbing Laurelyn around the waist and pulling her up to him, looking unreasonably jealous for someone who cared for naught but his ship.

"Oh, for the love of God!" shrieked Mary, making us all jump, and then jump again as a huge bang was heard and Will was sent careening into me. Several more bangs were heard, which my mind later registered as shots, but I could see nothing but Will and the awful red color blooming from his arm. I spun around and also saw Richard laying on the beach, bleeding profusely from his chest. I turned back to Will, forgetting Richard entirely.

"Bloody hell," Will groaned, as I helped him sit up. "It's nothing it just grazed you, you're fine, you're alright," I said, unaware that I was shaking and wide-eyed and staring at Will's arm, pulling off my own red sash and tying it there securely as Will clenched his jaw in pain. If I had been paying attention, I would have seen Naneth and Taeryn exchange glances, but I wasn't.

"Oh, I'm going to _kill_ that Richard Millar!" I roared. "Too late," the Commodore commented grimly, walking over from where Richard lay. Gillette looked a bit pale, which was odd as he was a seasoned sailor and soldier, and I felt faint but was too shocked and worried about Will to notice. Mary walked over to the Commodore shakily and hid her face in his neck. "Please, James, I've had enough of adventures, just take me back to Port Royal," she whispered. Laurelyn was still standing with Jack, who was looking worriedly at Will. She pulled a few gold coins from the front of her dress and handed them to David, who winked at her and slipped them into a sack on his hip. "Thanks, mate," she said heartily, and then turned to look at Will with the same worried expression Jack had. I pulled the necklace on which the claddagh ring my father had given me was strung and grabbed Will's hand. He was watching me, confused, as I pushed the ring onto the third finger of his left hand. It was heartening to see that it fit perfectly, and that gave me what I need to say these next words:

"Oh, God, Will, before I get kidnapped or you get killed, just say you'll marry me!"

A/N: I didn't know where to end it, so I figured that'd be a good spot. I'm _sorry _if parts of this chapter sucked (which I think they did), but this snuck up on me in a dream last night and, well, here it is. Review, please! By the way, I don't know if that's really where the claddagh ring goes…but that's where it went on BtVS, and BtVS is where I get my education…haha!


	29. Red Sashes

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: I was reading this over, and had to laugh. Does anyone else notice how Governor Swann's name mysteriously changes from "Franklin" to "Fredrick" in chapter 22?…Ah, I amuse myself so much with my stupidity.

Laurelyn let out a whoop of joy and Mary squealed happily, jumping up and down even though the Commodore's arm was still securely around her waist. Anamaria grinned at her sister and even Maurya hid a reluctant smile.

"'Bout bloody time," Gibbs grumbled, walking over to where Laurelyn's friends from Tortuga stood gathered around her, seemingly to catch up. The other mercenaries were crowded around Richard's still form, but they didn't stay for long. I heard Gillette murmur something about how the most untrustworthy of men were the sell-swords, eyeing them gravely from beside Norrington, who had eyes only for Mary. Jack was grinning at me, too, and winked. I smiled back and looked anxiously to Will again. Absently, I noticed that everyone but Naneth, Maurya, Taeryn and her husband were scattering in different directions. It seemed that Naneth really would have my hide. Even Maurya seemed nervous.

That didn't matter to me, however, because Will still hadn't answered my question. He looked so confused that I wondered if I had even done the right thing, asking him to marry me like that. Suddenly I was thinking about what my father would say, if he ever found out that _I _had asked _Will_ to marry _me._ It just isn't done, after all. It's not proper. And from the look on Will's face, I was beginning to wonder if he was thinking the very same thing.

He looked up at me with those dark eyes of his that it was all I could do not to scream. In fact, I don't even think I made it that far. "Well, answer me, you lout! I don't think I can sit still another bleeding minute!" I yelped. Will's face broke out into a grin and I nearly fell over with relief. "Yes," he said gruffly, pulling me down for a kiss that left my face burning and my face nearly split in two from smiling back at him. When we finally broke away, I noticed that only Naneth stood before us, her hands resting scornfully on her tiny waist. Maurya and Taeryn stood nearby, and Taeryn's dangerous looking husband further off still, presumably waiting for Will.

Will stood and helped me up, his arm going protectively around my waist as he tried to stare down Naneth. The sight should have been quiet ludicrous, really, considering the fact that Naneth was a head shorter than I, and I myself only reading about up to Will's nose. But Naneth didn't seem intimidated at all. She merely raised an eyebrow at me, and taking it as my signal is disentangled myself from Will albeit reluctantly.

"You do be wise, young Princess, to keep your distance from this boy," Naneth said gravely. Will stiffened and opened his mouth to say something, but I glared at him and he closed it again. Naneth's eyes crinkled at the edges, as if she were about to smile, but the rest of her face remained as it if had been carved from stone.

"You were sworn to be a daughter of this island and you did disobey the rules we placed upon you," Naneth said quietly. I met her eyes steadily, ready to face whatever punishment she would bestow. "For this, you will be punished. You shall be strapped in the center of the maiden's camp as an example for all the young girls who have any ideas about running off with a boy in the middle of the night." Naneth placed emphasis on calling Will a boy rather than a man, as if by his actions he had proven himself too irresponsible for titles of maturity. "You will receive twenty lashings, and every day for the next three days you will take on all the chores of the women who share your tent."

I nodded and bowed before Naneth. Will was practically shaking with anger. "You will not lay a hand on her, old woman!" he snarled. I looked at him sharply, about to implore him to hold his tongue, but Naneth got there first. "Do not think you will get away so lucky, young Turner. Taeryn's husband will take you now to the man-chief where you will be punished for your own broken vows - you were told it is forbidden to spend a night with a maiden sworn to the island." Will's mouth closed with a snap, but he remained glaring at Naneth. "Jack will take us off this island -" he started to say. Naneth raised her chin. "Jack Sparrow does know the rules of this island, as do you. You did choose to break them, and now you shall be treated as one of our own," she said with such formality that even Will could not retort, and he can be quite hardheaded when he wants to be.

Taeryn's husband led Will off to the opposite side of the island, while Taeryn and Maurya came to stand with me. "You will receive your punishment tonight," Maurya said. I forced myself not to shudder and held myself stiffly as they led me to the camp fire.

1.

Hours later, I laid on my belly in the middle of my tent as Taeryn applied a salve of aloe to my burning back. While harsh, the punishment was not made to last, and so the angry marks from the willow-whip were already being coaxed into healing. I hissed as the cool aloe touched my skin, and Taeryn laughed quietly under her breath.

"I don't see what's so funny," I muttered. While I had gone to the punishment calm and collected, it hadn't taken long until I'd been shrieking. The other girls had gone back to their tents swearing that they'd never sneak out in the middle of the night - or at the very least they'd never get caught.

"This isn't as rare as you'd think, Princess," Taeryn said smoothly. I tried to raise my head to look at her, but found that moving was too much for my sore back. "What isn't?" I asked. I could tell she was trying hard not to laugh at me. "Young girls like you getting caught in the woods with boys like young William." There was a definite note of laughter in her voice.

"It rarely amounts to anything really worthy of punishment. In fact, I'll let you know a secret…"

"What?"

"When I was your age, I did get caught three times out of bed when I was supposed to be sleeping…"

"THREE? You went through this three times?" I gasped, starting so much that she pressed hard on my back and I yelped. "Stay still," she admonished. "Anyway, I only did get caught three times. I was out much more than that."

"You are a much braver woman than I am, Taeryn. Future husband or not, I will not risk my hid to go out and see Will…" I muttered, cursing him for my own misfortune. She placed long, thin leaves over the aloe salve and then applied a bandage that would hold them in place. "He is in the same condition as you right now, Christina," she reminded me gently. "Sit up," she instructed, pulling away. We sat facing each other and she took my hands in hers. "There is something we must discuss, but we will wait until Laurelyn and Mary return." My two friends - ever inch of their respective skins still in place and without strap marks - were out and about this cool night, enjoying the island air. I don't know how they managed it, as Mary couldn't take her eyes off the Commodore since he showed up, and Laurelyn could barely keep her lips off Jack.

It wasn't long, however, until the tent flap opened and both of my island-sisters walked in. Mary seemed to be in a much better mood now that the Commodore was back - she wasn't harping nearly as much as usual about wanting to go back to Port Royal. She did, however, blush a brilliant shade of red when he remarked on her "strange attire" - she still wore the white dress of the maidens, and I don't think Commodore Norrington had seen so much leg on a woman before in his life.

"How are you feeling, Miss?" Mary asked me cheerfully, coming to sit down next to me and placing her hand on my shoulder. I hissed angrily, "Do be careful, Mary, and be so kind to remember what I was put through today!" She rolled her eyes at me, "It was your own fault, Christina. Nobody told you to go off and spend the night with Will. You _knew_ it was forbidden…"

"I never knew you were so fond of rules, Mary. But you seem to have abandoned some propriety as well," I said, indicating the slits in her skirt. "Oy, you should have seen it. I never would have thought a grand old puff like the Commodore could do it, but Mary's got a love bite right above her -"

"Do be quiet, Laurelyn!" Mary said sharply, turning almost as red as her hair. Taeryn and I laughed loudly as Mary scowled at Laurelyn. "And what about you, hmm, Miss Lupine?" Mary snapped. Laurelyn grinned as Mary opened her mouth to say more. "Don't worry, Mary-belle, I'm not ashamed of my activities." She shot a glance at Taeryn; a knowing grin that neither Mary nor I could begin to contemplate the meaning of, although I had a feeling that I might, soon.

"There are some wonderful places on this island," Taeryn said, grinning at me. "Very secluded…the elders will never find you there…" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Don't even think about it, Taeryn. I am not going to tempt Naneth into wielding that switch again. Now what was this little meeting called for anyway?" I prodded. It had been a long day - I had barely gotten enough sleep the night before, and had my life threatened earlier - and to finish it all off I'd had any exhaustion whipped out of my by the strict chief-mother herself. For a tiny woman, Naneth certainly had a strong arm.

Taeryn grew more serious - or as serious as the woman could be. She was a lot like Laurelyn, except she was married. "It has to do with the passing of the red scarf. You see, even before you did ask young William to marry you - a custom which may not be prominent on your island but is quite frequent on ours - you passed to him the red scarf that was handed to you after you became a daughter of our land."

"And?" I stifled yawn. "The bestowing of a scarf is never planned, never conscious. It is a sacred act of this island, it is demonstrates when fate brings two people together under the blessing of the Mother," Taeryn said. Mary was watching the dark native woman with big eyes, twisting the edges of her skirt nervously. Taeryn's eyes ticked to her, amused, but it seemed she had nothing to say at the moment.

"But I gave the scarf to Will because he was bleeding…" I said slowly. Taeryn smiled brightly. "It is a tradition," she explained to me. "Even with my dear husband, stubborn though he may be…when I was fifteen, I did roam around this island. It happened one day that my husband was out hunting and had been caught in his own snare…I did free him from the tree in which he was trapped, much to his embarrassment, and he did fall to the floor and split his head." Mary shuddered, but evidently to Taeryn is was nothing new that her husband fall out of trees and crack his skull open.

"I did give to him my maiden scarf, and when Naneth found out, she did consent for us to marry."

"But you were fifteen!" I gasped. When I was fifteen, I was barely old enough to wear a corset. Then again, my father had begun looking for suitors for Elizabeth and I at about that time.

"We did wait for three years, and I had little contact with him until the day of our marriage, except on feast days. I did hate him, but Naneth had ordained that we be married, and so we were," Taeryn explained. She placed a hand over her round stomach and smiled at me.

"Wait…so you married a man you barely _knew_?" Mary asked. I shrugged uncomfortably. "It isn't like that doesn't happen at Port Royal, Mary," I offered. Taeryn nodded. "Except this was different. I was not a willing bride, but I knew I must obey the rules of the island. And the ribbon-passing never does lie. My husband did come to be my hearts-mate, and I, his." Laurelyn sighed happily, touching the sides of her neck absently. I noticed a rather large amount of scattered purple bruises. She grinned wickedly at me when she noticed my watching.

"You will marry William in three days time, after your chores are completed. Tomorrow morning at dawn you will undergo a ceremony preparing you for marriage." Taeryn smiled at me and took my face in her hands, kissing both of my cheeks. "Welcome, my sister. I will be honored to attend your wedding, and I do wish you much luck with your fine man."

1.

Taeryn left shortly after to begin preparations for the coming dawn with Maurya and Naneth. I sat with Mary and Laurelyn in shocked silence, to stunned to move. "I'm going to be married on this island?" I asked, disbelieving. Laurelyn sighed and fell back against her sleeping mat. "It is so romantic…imagine, a marriage fated by the Island Mother herself! This surely must quell all your fears, Christina…If only I were so lucky…D'you reckon I could steal one of those red sashes and capture Jack with it?"

"The sashes are only for maidens, Laurelyn," I said dryly. Laurelyn pouted. "Oh. Right. Damn that Jack Sparrow." It wasn't long before her trademark wicked grin made its way onto her face again. I rolled my eyes.

"Surely you aren't going to go through with it, Christina? It isn't proper! You deserve a good Christian wedding, in a church with a priest and a beautiful white dress -"

"- which she will surely get upon returning to Port Royal. But I'm sure she doesn't want to have to promise of love, honor, and _obey_. Do you?" Laurelyn asked. I snorted. "William will have to prove himself quite a hardheaded oaf if he expects me to swear under God to obey him," I retorted. Mary clucked her tongue angrily. "You cannot mean that, Christina. Will you truly give yourself to this paganism - this heathendom?"

I stared at her, shocked. "You don't truly believe that, do you, Mary? Have you seen anything here to make you belief that some evil exists on this island? All I have seen here is beauty -"

"What about the thrashing that Naneth gave you today?" Mary accused. "No better and no worse occurs at Port Royal, Mary. Three days from now I will get married to Will. At dawn I will take part in whatever ceremony required of me to do that. I'm done waiting for something else to happen to deter me…"

"But…"

"Don't worry, Mary," I said, touching her arm gently before turning and readying myself to sleep. It was hard to find a comfortable position; the salve and bandages that Taeryn had applied to my back was making the skin tight. "We shall be back at Port Royal soon, and you can spend as much time as you want making Commodore Norrington make up for how he treated you…"

Mary gave a disgruntled sigh as we all laid down for sleep.

A/N: Short chapter. I'm sorry. I'm getting back into the groove of writing. Hey - how gorgeous is Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi? OMG just call me Crystyna Kenobi from now on…seriously…x


	30. Sisterhood

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Wow…people are actually calling me Ms. Kenobi. WOOT. Muchas gracias to reviewers and readers.

It had been two weeks since the Commodore set off to find Christina and Will and bring them back, and every day since Elizabeth had awoken early and made her way down to the docks, searching eagerly for the small vessel they'd taken to emerge on the horizon. She told herself it wasn't because of Will - and for the most part, it wasn't, although a great deal of her was worried about him. But she was more concerned for her sister, now, having fully given up on Will.

After all, hadn't Christina risked everything - her reputation, their father's respect, and most importantly her _life_ - to come out and search for Elizabeth; indeed, to rescue her from Barbossa and his men? It was the very least Elizabeth could do to respectfully back away and give Christina and Will her best wishes. And it had taken her enough time to realize that, too.

Elizabeth had done a lot of thinking since Christina had run away from Port Royal, seemingly to provide Will and Elizabeth herself with the space they needed. Elizabeth thought mostly about her relationship with her sister, how strained it had become since their mother left. She realized that she had a deep love for her sister, and that she always did, but it had become so very hard to identify. She realized that it was really a rather stupid reaction to their mother's absence - if anything, it should have proved to bring the two together. But just as it was hard for the Governor to be around Christina, it was also hard for Elizabeth. Christina had so much of their mother in her.

For a long time it was all Elizabeth could hold onto that she was like her father. Though he had his faults, Governor Swann was a good man and Elizabeth was proud to call him Father, although Christina might beg to differ. But in the two weeks since her sister had been gone, Elizabeth had grown up considerably. Perhaps it was Christina's absence that finally allowed Elizabeth the room to grow up. When they were around each other, each remained in their own way immature, although to other eyes Elizabeth was the mature one; Christina being the rebellious daughter.

Elizabeth sat now with her knees drawn up to her chest, a difficult position to manage when garbed in as many yards of fabric as she was. Before her kidnapping, Elizabeth would never have been caught like this. She was always the image of propriety, but now Elizabeth sensed that propriety hadn't gotten her very far, and maybe her sister was right all along to scorn it. But one of them had to carry the respect of being Governor Swann's daughter, and since Christina shirked it and preferred swordsmanship, the duty fell to the youngest daughter. It had always seemed natural for it to be that way - Christina the eldest sister, whose hair never stayed in place and who ripped about as many dresses as she owned, and Elizabeth, the younger: fair skinned and fair haired, every inch the aristocrat.

She never realized how much she envied her sister, though she did to some degree acknowledge Christina's own envy of her. It seemed ironic, now, Elizabeth thought, how they had lived so close these ten years since their mother's leave-taking, and never even thought to talk to one another.

It seemed rather pathetic to Elizabeth now that their long-term rivalry was over a boy, regardless of how handsome Will Turner turned out to be. She was relieved to discover, in all her mornings spent by the shore in meditation, that perhaps he was only the excuse and their rivalry was caused by heavier things. Since finding out that Governor Swann was not truly her father, Elizabeth had found that growing up was quite necessary. It tore from her the very basis of herself - she was the Governor's daughter. Everyone said how proud he must be of her, how beautiful she was, how alike to him she was…for Christina, adjusting to something like this would be much easier. Didn't she always swear she was not related to them anyway? Didn't she always say that she couldn't possibly by the Governor's true daughter? But Elizabeth had relied on her relationship with her father to justify the way she was - straight-backed and proud, not flippant or fanciful like the sister that intrigued everyone. Invigorating - isn't that what First Mate Gillette called Christina? As long as Elizabeth was the Governor's daughter, it was alright that she wasn't invigorating. It was perfectly acceptable to be exactly like the other "rich, wig-wearing" people of Port Royal that Christina so heatedly despised. Now, knowing that she _wasn't_ her father's daughter, well, it gave her now excuse to be like _everybody_ else. And she was even further from the mother that she hardly remembered.

For the first time, she wished her sister were here to talk to. The fact that she might have destroyed her one tie to her mother was more than Elizabeth could bear to think about. She swore to herself that as soon as Christina arrived back at Port Royal - assuming, of course, that she ever would return - that she would apologize and even beg forgiveness if she had to. Sadly, Elizabeth realized that it wasn't entirely out of love for her sister, but also out of her own need. Christina was the closest thing to their mother that Elizabeth could know, and not merely because she looked like Belynda St. Paul but because she had her spirit. At least she would admit to herself, though, that she wasn't with the purest of intentions. It seemed there was a first time for everything.

With a sigh, Elizabeth turned to stare out at the horizon once more.

1.

Despite any discomfort, I fell asleep rather quickly only to be roused in what seemed like minutes by Laurelyn and Mary. Mary was sitting glumly on her mat, scowling at me with her arms over her chest. "I do not think you should go through with this, Christina. It isn't wise, and you were brought up to know better. You don't have to live a life quite so full of _adventure_," she urged. I sighed and shifted my shoulders; I would still be sore for a while.

"This isn't about adventure anymore, Mary," I said, crawling out of the tent and narrowing my eyes in the darkness - the sun hadn't risen yet, and it was brisk out. Laurelyn came out of the tent after me, handing me my blanket and tossing hers around her shoulders. Mary came walking out next, wrapped up tightly in her own coarse blanket and glaring about suspiciously. It seemed being away from Port Royal for so long was having effects on her that I couldn't begin to comprehend. Although I was feeling a bit homesick - not enough to think about more than once a day, but homesickness all the same - Mary seemed to loathe every minute away from our small, "civilized" town. I found myself in less of a rush to get back.

"What is it about then?" she asked sullenly. I sighed. "I made a vow - as did you, if I remember correctly - to become a daughter of this island. And I will uphold that vow,"

"Are you even listening to yourself? A _daughter_ of this island? You are the _daughter_ of Belynda St. Paul and Governor Franklin Swann of Port _Royal_. This is madness, Christina! You cannot swear yourself - your _soul_ - to these…people," Mary hissed. We stood alone, but I knew that Maurya and Naneth would be here any minute to lead us wherever it was the ceremony would take place.

"These people have a complex and beautiful culture, Mary. I thought you were less closed-minded, but it seems you have been spending a great deal of time with a certain Commodore. You're beginning to sound like him!" I snapped.

"You leave James out of this - so what if I sound like him? It's because he is _right_! I agree with him!" Mary snapped right back. I let out a breath and decided to try a new approach. "Mary, you have been on this island as long as I have - these women have become our friends. What have you seen here that would cause you to fear them so? What harm have you seen them do?" I asked, making an attempt to understand where she was coming from. Mary pursed her lips. "What harm? They believe in a _goddess_, and Earth Mother, for God's sake! They dance around fires and go about half-naked and live in huts and tents. You would give yourself to this? If you care nothing for your own soul at least think of your children!"

"Mary, you can't be as superstitious as all that…"

"It isn't right, Christina, and you were brought up better than this!" she looked truly desperate now, and I was beginning to fear for her sanity. Looking back, I think she felt the same way about me.

"That is enough, Mary-belle," Laurelyn said quietly. "They do not mean any harm - I'm an initiate of the island, and I'm alright."

"You are a very far cry from alright, _Miss_ Lupine," Mary snarled. Laurelyn looked taken aback. "You own your own shop, you are your own boss, and you sleep with a man who you are not married to and have no intention of marrying. It is not right for a woman to do such things. It is not _all right_!" Laurelyn looked shocked, and temporarily hurt. As a woman living on Tortuga, accusations such as Mary's probably were not new to her, but it was clear that before this she thought of Mary as someone who could be her friend. I put my hand on Laurelyn's shoulder gently, angry that a friend as dear to me as Mary could say something so tactless, especially to someone I greatly admired for being independent and strong.

"And why isn't it right, Mary? Because it is new? Because it is challenging? Because men do not say so?" I asked sourly, more upset by her words than I could imagine myself being. Mary had always been a dear friend to me; she would always listen to me when I had some sob tale to whine about whether it be Will or Elizabeth or my father. We hardly ever disagreed, but we never truly spoke about matters of great importance. In this new place, I discovered that there were some parts of Mary's character I hadn't been aware of, and could hardly understand.

"I am _tired_ of being told my place. And I would think that you are too. Perhaps it is Port Royal that is backwards and this place that has it figured out. I see no reasoning behind the conception that women are beneath men -"

"That is just how it is, Miss Swann. I have lived with it all my life and I haven't been doing too bad for myself. You will have to learn to live with it, too," Mary said patiently, suddenly patronizing. I bristled with indignation. "This is where we part, then, Mary. I will never learn to live with it. I answer to no man," I told her, turning my back to meet Naneth, Maurya, and Taeryn.

"You do truly be a daughter of our island then, Princess," Naneth told me kindly, taking my hand. Laurelyn walked beside Taeryn, and Maurya was on my other side. I turned around only once, to see Mary standing with her arms crossed before she walked in the other direction, towards the shore where the Commodore had camped, waiting to take us back to Port Royal.

1.

We walked through the forest, away from the maiden's camp, higher and higher until we reached a plateau of smooth rock. The forest was farther beneath us then I'd imagined, as shortly after entering the forest and leaving the maiden's camp behind I was blindfolded with a deep blue sash. Standing on the rock I was arranged facing east and slowly I felt the warmth of the sun as it made its slow ascent into the sky. My maiden's garb was removed and I was clothed instead soft garments of a color unknown to me, my world and light muted by the sash across my eyes.

"Do you, Christina Swann, wish to be a daughter of our island, sister to the Forest Virgin?" a high, trembling voice asked me first. I vaguely recognized it as one of the girls from the maiden's camp, a few years younger than myself. I felt Naneth touch my lips lightly with a flower petal, a sign that I should answer.

"Yes," I said, my voice clear in the gently breeze. I was left devoid of my eyesight, but I could hear more clearly the sounds of the island - the distant rumble of waves on the shore, the rustle of wind through the trees; the high chant from the women's side of the island, and the low grunts and shouts of the hunting men. I could feel everything from this high up, the spray of the sea still reaching us and letting salt coat my lips and skin, sand whipped about sharply even high above the beaches.

"Do you, Christina Swann, wish to be a daughter of our island, daughter to the Earth Mother?" Taeryn's voice asked me this, deep and proud, barely above a whisper yet resounding with life. I found myself thinking fleetingly of my mother, and how Taeryn's voice reminded me of how she told stories to Elizabeth and I late at night, in the years before she left. Again Naneth touched my lips but this time with a fruit, and again I answered "Yes."

"Do you, Christina Swann, wish to be a daughter of our island, child of the Old Lady of the Sea?" Maurya's voice was like a bellow, surrounding me the way the ocean surrounds the island. I trembled faintly, intimidated by Maurya even though it had been Naneth who dealt out my punishment for spending a night with Will. Naneth touched my lips once more with the pit of the fruit, which I think was a peach, and before her fingers left my lips I answered, "Yes."

I felt Naneth's wizened old hands reach up and take the sash from my eyes, binding it instead in my hair, which had been braided back elaborately for the occasion. Laurelyn and Taeryn came forward and removed the sleeves from a thin night-black dress that I had been dressed in, leaving my shoulders bare. I was ordered to kneel on the hard stone of the plateau, blinded by the light of the sun, which had risen so that it seemed square with my eyes. Everything felt warm as oils were rubbed into my skin. I tensed, expecting pain where the aloe and leaves had been removed, but the oils were sweet and soothing. Naneth stood before me, so tiny that she could reach my shoulders easily. Maurya handed her a bowl full of deep blue dye, the same color as the sash in my hair. Taeryn handed her a needle.

Anamaria was also present, I noticed, but she hadn't said a word or moved until now. She was also dressed in the brown linen that the married women and Laurelyn wore, but her shoulders were bare and I could see on her left the tiny red circle that I had asked her about in the lagoon, the first day on the island. She smiled as she looked at me now. "This red circle do symbolize those of this island too proud, too brave, or too foolish to give their lives to bonding," Anamaria said softly, touching the circle and tracing where the line deepened to make it appear like a crescent moon. Her eyes did not seem sad, on the contrary she seemed content. "It is the path I did choose. But you, Christina Swann, did choose another." I looked up when she refrained from calling me "princess," as she usually chose too. Hearing my name was strange, coming from her, but again I suppose this is ceremony.

"The blue ink does symbolize those too passionate, too foolish, too brave to run away when they are called to the bond. It is the path laid before you, the one you did choose to take when you passed the scarlet sash."

I gasped as Naneth began to press the needle to my flesh, mixing the ink with my skin. I thought, wildly, about what my father would say if he ever saw me with a tattoo - it might just be the straw that broke the camel's back. Laurelyn stood next to Taeryn, and each of them had a blue circle on her shoulder, as did Maurya. Naneth, I was surprised to see, had a red one; and the girl who asked me first if I would accept this island had no circle, but I suppose she was too young.

The first stab of pain that I felt in my shoulder dimmed to a dull soreness, and I closed my eyes and felt the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair, which had been let down out of its braid after the blindfold was removed. Taeryn, Maurya, and Anamaria began to sing a haunting tune, something that sounded familiar and foreign at the same time, and Naneth hummed it under her breath as she worked, her fingers as gentle as they had ever been. I opened my eyes when she was done and in the dawn I could see the dress I wore was blue, not black, and in my hair they had woven flowers.

1.

Back at Port Royal, Elizabeth had finally decided that she could not wait any longer by the shore. It was clear that today was not the day that Christina would be coming home, and as surprised as she was to admit it, Elizabeth was disappointed. Her father stood waiting by a stagecoach to take her back to the mansion, where Eleanor would dawdle over getting her into a bath and braiding her hair, and tucking her into her large feather bed so she would not miss a wink of beauty sleep. Elizabeth had been sleeping in the room she shared with Christina recently, even though they each had a separate room. She had been rehearsing every day the words to say to apologize, and part of her was glad that her sister had not returned yet. Elizabeth didn't know how she would face her sister, especially after the conditions in which they had parted.

Elizabeth had kept the letter Christina had written, saying farewell, at first trying to understand it and then feeling terribly guilty about all that had transpired.

"_Father, don't be too terribly upset with Will, either. It is not his fault I am leaving, nor is it Elizabeth's, though at first it seemed that way to me. You still must welcome him as son-in-law, I think. I hope they will be very happy…_

…Please do not trouble yourself with worry for me, and tell Mr. Turner not to feel guilty because he will be much happier now that I am leaving. It is something I probably should have done weeks ago, this stepping aside…

I hope he and Elizabeth will be very happy together."

"'This stepping aside...'" Elizabeth whispered to herself, getting to her feet and shaking her skirts free of sand. She squared her shoulders and decided that tomorrow she would not come to the shore and wait. It seemed that her time with Jack and the pirates had given her a sense for the wind; on the ocean breeze she felt sure she could smell change, and it was almost as if she could hear a faint singing, women's voices raised in song. She turned and headed back to the stagecoach to go home, unaware of the blossoms that the ocean-breeze had threaded in her hair.

1.

A/N: Woot, another update. And you didn't have to wait months for it. Go me. School ends in three days, and I'm trying to wrap up this story a bit (thirty chapters is a bit insane, I think…). I wanted the "initiation" thing be kind of Mists of Avalon-mystical, but it might just have sounded corny. (grin) I hope ya'll liked it…This one was pretty fun to write, but it might just be me getting away with myself. Review, please!

Crystyna

Good God, everyone thinks that Hayden Christianson is hotter than my very sexy Jedi Master Kenobi! o.0 That's okay. More for me, then. x


	31. In the Sea

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Wow…chapter 31.

"I'm getting _married_ in three days?" Will asked, genuinely shocked. Taeryn's husband, Jahar, had just left the bachelor's tent that Will had been sharing with Jack and Gibbs for his time on the island. The chief had also come in to explain the situation, and Will was left staring at the red sash that Christina had bound his arm with after he had been grazed by the bullet.

"Seems so, mate," Jack said, stepping out of the tent. Will sat in shock, wondering over the many strange events that had taken place in the course of one day. Gibbs snorted and rolled over, intent on ignoring both Jack and Will and getting some shut-eye. He didn't particularly like this island - a great many bad things had happened since they came here, and seeing Commodore Norrington again wasn't something Gibbs had been looking forward too since becoming a recognized member of Jack Sparrow's crew.

Thankfully, the Commodore hadn't seen Gibbs long enough or scrutinized him hard enough to recognize that he used to sail under Norrington, when Norrington had been a captain on the crossing from England. And Gibbs desired to keep it that way, no matter how distracted the Commodore seemed to be with the little red-haired bint, Mary Pearl.

"Aha! I knew these island hoppers had to have some drinkable form of alcohol around here," Jack said triumphantly, stumbling his way back into the tent. He had two bottles in each hand, and gave one each to Will and Gibbs. It was not lost on Will that Jack kept two for himself.

"You're going to drink yourself to death," Will grumbled, popping the cork out of his own bottle and downing a rather large amount in one gulp. Jack grinned crookedly, "All in moderation, my boy. And it looks as if ye do not be a stranger to the bottle, either. Yer not having second thoughts, are ye, boy? Because if ye are…" Jack tucked on bottle in the corner of the tent and began to nurse the other, all the while managing to look vaguely threatening.

"No! Of course not! But blast it all - three days? And an island wedding, for God's sake! I'm sure Christina is going to have my head for this…"

"Look at that, Gibbsie, the boy already knows his place in the marriage," Jack crowed, and Gibbs chuckled darkly to himself. "I hope you know what yer getting yourself into, lad," Gibbs grunted. "Wives are never a good thing. 'S why I live on Tortuga. A man can live contented and never have to hear about it in the morning…"

"Shut yer hole, Gibbs. It's taken the chit long enough to agree to marry him, it wont do any good if ye scare the boy from going through with it," Jack warned. Will glowered, not aware of the fact that he had already drunk half of the bottle and was set on continuing. The liquid was clear and sharp, but Will noticed neither the texture nor taste. "I am not afraid," he said stoutly.

"Then yer a braver man than I am, William. Yer like yer father, I suppose. He was better man than Gibbs or I," Jack said solemnly. "I've the feeling yer gonna make a damn fine husband to that girl…but it's rare a man gets a second chance, and it's a rare woman to forgive a man after what ye did. Aye, a rare woman indeed…" Jack trailed off, preoccupied. Will sighed. "Yes, I know…I don't deserve her, that's plain enough to see. But I don't know the first _bloody_ thing about being a husband. I'm just a blacksmith." Will wished he hadn't drank so fast, the alcohol was surely loosening his tongue, and while Jack and Gibbs were good friends, Will wasn't eager to share his insecurities with them. Or with anyone, for that matter. The last thing he needed was for it to get back to Christina.

"Jack and I are the worst men to ask how to be a good husband, boy," Gibbs snapped. "Aye," Jack said suddenly, coming out of whatever reverie he had elapsed into. "But then, Christina hardly knows how to be a wife, either. Ye shouldn't worry, William, it's just something ye'll both have to grow into. And ye just stay away from that sister of hers, mind. I'm no faithful lover myself, Laurelyn's reminded me of that often enough -" Regret laced its way into Jack's voice for a moment, but he shook himself out of it. "- but I do know that yer sister-in-law is definitely off-limits to ye now," he finished, reaching for the second bottle that had been so temporarily hidden.

"I know _that_," Will huffed, a dull pounding behind his eyes beginning to emerge. He hoped he'd be asleep before it erupted fully, but he knew he was in for a rough morning either way. "But three days…bloody hell!"

1.

The days passed surprisingly quickly after I had been initiated, but I suppose that it was only natural since the only event coming between me and the trip back to Port Royal was my wedding. And of course time would fly - while I was eager to get married, I was also quite terrified. The fact that I hadn't been able to come into contact with Will for the last three days was both a blessing and a curse - I wanted to talk to him, most definitely, but part of me wanted nothing more than to run away again. It didn't stop my wedding day from approaching, or even slowing down, however.

Things weren't made any easier by the fact that Mary was torn between staying with the Commodore and the First Mate, and staying in the tent at the maiden's camp. Eventually the thought of staying alone with too men was far too preposterous for her to handle and so she ended up staying with me. It didn't make her any more eager to talk to me, however. She would stare at me sullenly and disapprovingly, most of the time; otherwise she looked as if she was afraid that Lucifer himself would tear open the ground under my feet and suck me straight down to hell. I saw her staring at they tiny blue tattoo on my shoulder often enough and I was torn between wanting to slap her silly or joining her in prayer to keep my soul from eternal damnation.

I suppose I had Laurelyn to talk to, but Laurelyn and Mary were too huge extremes, and despite myself I found it easier to relate to Mary. No matter how much I rebelled against the social norms I had been raised into, I could not fully regard this island culture as my own. This of course led me to worry endlessly over the post-nuptial activities; namely, my wedding night.

To keep myself from fretting too much over this, I had decided to try and reconcile myself with Mary. The evening before the wedding was to take place (at dawn, again, if you can imagine) I took her away from the firelight where the rest of the camp was dancing and singing happily. It was not lost on either of us that we hadn't joined in the festivities. Mary crossed her arms over her chest skeptically…she had gone back and put on her good Port Royal clothing and didn't seem to mind the disdainful looks from the island women. I didn't mind, so long as she was comfortable. She seemed to despise the thin blue initiate dress that I had been wearing the past two, days however.

"Mary, I know you do not agree with what I did, but I hope you won't let it tear us apart," I said softly, taking her hands. She took a deep breath and sighed. "It isn't that I hate you for it, Christina, if that's what you think. But I am so very homesick, and this place is so far from everything I know…"

"I understand."

"No, I don't think you do. You brought me here, and while I did agree to come with you, I didn't think that I would have to leave everything I knew behind. _You_ are my one link to what life used to be like, what life is supposed to be. And now even you have been taken away from me. It makes being so far from home even more terrible," she said sadly. I stared at her, almost at a loss for words.

"Do you truly believe me changed, then?" I asked. She nodded, reaching up and tracing the blue crescent moon on my shoulder. "What is this? Who are you?" she asked, her voice stronger now, almost angry. I frowned, placing my hand over the tattoo almost protectively. "I am the same girl you grew up knowing, Mary."

"Perhaps that is the problem, then," she answered, looking sad once again. "Perhaps I never knew you."

"Mary -"

"You were always different, Christina; that I could handle. But you were at least from the same place that I was. Now? Do you truly believe you are of this island?" I said nothing, only watched the shapes and shadows caused by the firelight change on the trees and tents surrounding us. "Tomorrow you will be married, and I will be happy for you, make no mistake of that. But tomorrow night, after your wedding, will you be with him even though you did not have a proper wedding? Have you come so far from your home as that?" she asked, reading me more easily that I would have liked to admit.

"Mary, I don't see why it is so important -"

"It is important," she said stiffly. "You told me that we were never different, even though I am a maid and you the Governor's daughter. If you go through with this wedding - _all_ the way through with it - then we will be different, and I do not know if time will mend that."

She turned and walked away into the tent, leaving me shivering away from the fire and very confused.

Later that night, when I lay on my mat with the coarse blanket up to my chin, I turned to Mary, who seemed to be asleep. Laurelyn was no where to be found, and I assumed she had gone somewhere to be with Jack. "Mary?" I whispered, hoping that she was still awake. "Hm?" she murmured, rolling over on her side and facing me. I could only see the outline of her head and shoulders in the darkness, but I was glad that I was not awake alone.

"I'm frightened," I told her, thinking about what she had said, and how far we had come since leaving home. "Me too," she replied, stretching and sitting up. "I am going to go through with the wedding tomorrow," I said quietly. She stiffened and laid back down. "I see," she said lowly, disappointment evident in her voice. I decided to ignore it. "I know you don't think I should, but I feel like if I don't marry him now, I may never get the chance to. And I want to, Mary, I desperately want to be his wife…" That I would never admit to Will, though. It would swell his head to bursting, in all likelihood.

"Christina, that is a very stupid reason to marry him on an island with people we hardly know."

"I know…but I think…tomorrow night I am going to tell him that we must wait until we get back to the Port before we…" I felt my face get hot and was glad for the darkness and cool night air, even in the tent. I heard Mary give a satisfied sigh. "That is the best idea you've had since leaving home," she said happily. I frowned, a bit perturbed at her sudden change in mood. Once again I decided to ignore it, simply grateful that she was once again on speaking terms with me.

1.

I woke up earlier than necessary, my whole body humming with anxiety. I didn't know what to expect for this island wedding, only that…well…I would essentially become Christina Turner today. I stepped out of the tent wrapped in my blanket, and Mary emerged and put her arm around my shoulders. "Don't be nervous," she said, evidently choosing to egg me on now that I told her I wouldn't be sleeping with Will tonight. I grinned, "If there's a part for Maid of Honor in island weddings, I would have no other Maid of Honor than you," I said. She smiled back and hugged me. "I'm sorry I've been so awful lately," she whispered. I finally relaxed and hugged her back, "It's forgotten. I know you've been through a lot." It was odd how simple forgiving Mary turned out to be, when it took me two weeks longer than forever to forgive Will. Such is life, I suppose, and didn't spend any more time dwelling on it, turning my thoughts again to my impending wedding.

It wasn't long before Naneth walked up to me and took my hands, leading me to the center of the camp. I saw that everyone had come to watch, each carrying garlands of flowers, sashes, necklaces of sea shells or jewelry of some sort. Naneth was the first to face me, wrapping around my waist a belt of tiny seashells. She kissed me on both cheeks and stepped away. Maurya came next, placing a necklace of miniature tiger lilies over my head and pulling my hair back. Naneth stepped behind me and began to braid my hair and twist it until it was completely off my neck. The other girls came up to me as she did this, placing bracelets on both or my arms. Some of the bracelets had chains attached to rings, and it got to be the point where if I moved my arms at all I would be met with chimes; a chorus of sound. Everyone who came up to me kissed me on both cheeks. Taeryn came up last, her heavy belly making it difficult for her to get close to me. On my forehead she placed a tiny chain with an aquamarine gemstone in the middle, its chain fastening around my head where Naneth had woven in flowers.

"I do wish you the best of luck," Taeryn said, before turning and standing in line with everyone else.

"Today you will be bonded," Naneth said, and I found it hard to keep myself from bolting. She smiled at me as if she knew what I was thinking, and pressed two fingers against my shoulder where the blue crescent moon was inked. I took a deep breath to calm down. "You will go into the forest and find your man. This is your first task. Bonding with a man is not a lifetime of ease and pleasure -"

"Although it's not half bad," Taeryn said thoughtfully, her hand resting on her belly. Everyone laughed, even Mary, who seemed to like Taeryn most out of everyone she'd met. Naneth's lips quirked in a smile, but she went on in a loud voice over the laughter.

"After today you will not only have to take care of yourself, but of your man too. Taeryn will tell you that is do not be an easy job, but as women we were made to care for them and they do seem to need it." I grinned at this, thinking about what Will would say if I told him he couldn't possibly function without me. Likely he'd challenge me to a duel, and then I'd have to soundly beat him to prove my point.

"After you do find him, you must lead him to the ocean. This is your second task. It is in the sea that your wedding will commence. Go now," Naneth said, a very unceremonious ending to her speech. I blinked. "Pardon me? Go now? Go…where?" I asked. Taeryn smiled fondly, taking me by the hand and pushing me towards the forest. "In there?" I asked, my voice sounding younger to my ears. "You will find him, Princess. We always do," Taeryn said. And so I took a step forward.

1.

Will had be walking around in the forest for what had to be at least three quarters of an hour, and there was still no sign of his would-be wife. _If she ran away again, I may just give up_, he thought but quickly admonished himself. He hadn't been able to sleep much the night before - well, that was a lie. Jack kept conjuring up liquor out of nowhere, and last night Will was so piss drunk that he couldn't have stayed awake to form a coherent thought if he'd wanted to. Which, given the state his nerves were in, he didn't.

So Will wondered pretty much aimlessly through the forest, vaguely paying attention to the chatter of birds and buzz of insects surrounding him. He found himself thinking, understandably, of Christina. He didn't know how the island people expected him to marry her when he hadn't had a chance to talk to her in the past three days, but then again he'd known her all his life.

Will stopped in his tracks.

He'd known Christina all his life - what if they got married today, and had nothing more to say to each other? Would he be married to a woman for the rest of his life and never say two words to her from the point they said "I do"? Assuming that they would say "I do," - the specifics of the island wedding were not made known to him.

Will shook his head and continued walking, stepping lightly over roots and shrubs, slapping at the irritating biting flies that hummed in his ear and around his neck. He was twenty years old and about to get married, walking in the forest on some island whose name he didn't know, searching for his wife-to-be in a cool, dark forest. Why was he sweating so much? And where _was _that blasted woman?

He found himself thinking of the wedding night, wondering if it would be taking place this night. Will felt a heat start to build around his neck, thinking about Christina that way. He was certain that she'd never been with a man before - they were best friends, for God's sake, she would have told him if she had…or would she? It wasn't something men and women talked openly about, after all. And she was quite unlike any other woman on Port Royal…what if she _had_ been with a man before? What if she was expecting more than he could deliver? Pirate for a father or not, Will wasn't a rogue with the women, although there had been one or two. Or three.

"Nonsense," Will though, thinking about Christina again. Chances were, she'd have him wait until they got back to Port Royal before…Will grunted, stubbing his toe against a root. That bloody woman would be the death of him, he just knew it.

Will thought of his mother and father, and about the rare occasions that he'd seen them together. Bill Turner had been away more often than not, but when he was with Isabelle, she was the happiest woman alive. Will thought when he was child that there would be no woman more beautiful than his mother, and no two people more in love than his parents. Isabelle had been gone a long time, but Will still remembered her clearly. How funny it seemed to him now that she wouldn't be with him to see him get married. It made him a little sad, actually. Neither of his parents would see him marry. It wasn't something he had thought about before; Will was hardly such a sentimental type. Daydreams about marriage were for women, after all. He wondered if Christina had spent much time wondering about her own marriage. He doubted it; she was far more likely to daydreams about pirates and adventures, and they'd both had their share of that.

Children…What about children? Will had never thought about being a father before - he had always more or less lived in the present, spending time from day to day, working on whatever orders came into the shop. _I am only a blacksmith - we have no home on Port Royal to return to. And she is from such an upbringing, she will expect the best…I don't even have a home for her!_ Will thought, cursing himself and feeling more nervous than ever. Where would they return to, once they got to Port Royal? Granted, there was the deed to the smithy, which he supposed he now owned…but that was no place to live! Not even in the loft, not if they were to have children. Will's hands felt cold all of a sudden - how could he hope to explain to Christina that she was marrying a man who could not even begin to provide for her?

Will was about to turn around and run out of the forest; he wanted to stay away from her, he could not be a husband. It was one thing to have to provide only for himself…but for a wife as well? There was no way he was ready for this marriage.

A rustling from the bushes ahead of him caught his attention, and Christina stumbled before him garlanded in flowers and seashells before he could move. He found himself thinking vaguely of the nymphs in stories that his father used to bring home with him. Will raised his eyes to meet the troubled eyes of his wife.

1.

"Will!" I gasped, holding my arms out to steady myself; I had been caught on a vine or some sort of root. It was exactly how I wanted my soon-to-be-husband to see me, stumbling through a forest with the flowers in my hair lopsided and most likely wilting. I felt his eyes pass over me slowly, and I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself tightly. To say that I was nervous would be just a tad larger than the biggest understatement of my life. I wondered desperately what was going through his mind; he looked so very confused.

"Are you alright?" I asked, cursing how tiny my voice sounded. He met my eyes slowly, taking in the aquamarine on my forehead. I suddenly felt like a fool, dressed up in all these flowers and seashells, jingling with every movement I made. I would have given anything for a good white shirt and trousers, or even a shift - hell, even one of Elizabeth's poofy dresses. _Anything_ other than this translucent blue wedding dress that the island women made me wear. Against my will I thought of Elizabeth, and how much more appropriate it would be if she stood here instead of me even with the ridiculous island get-up I was in.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt the strong urge to tear my eyes away and go running off in whatever direction that had the least amount of roots - those buggers were treacherous. But strangely, the urge to stay was even stronger. I smiled weakly, wondering if my legs were shaking in time to my heart beat and why the butterflies in my stomach were so intent on making me throw up. Wouldn't that be a sight to see, eh?

I wanted very much to take a step towards him, to hold out my hand and bring him with me to the sea where Naneth said I would marry him…but I couldn't bring myself to take that first step. It was my choice to make, to go through with marrying him. Being on this island was so odd, it turned Port Royal's rules right on their head. I wondered if Jack knew when he brought me here. Looking back, this island was exactly what I needed. It was time away from a world ruled by men. It was time for me to make my own decisions. If I were to marry Will, it would be because I made the first step. My choice. Will and I would come to see this much later, and we would begin to admire Jack for the wisdom that currently we weren't able to grasp.

I don't know how long Will and I stood looking at each other, the forest noises all but silenced around us. Nor to this day do I know which of us smiled first, but as soon as I saw his lips tugging upwards I was running to him and throwing my arms around his neck. I know Naneth said that we wouldn't be married until we reached the sea, but as soon as my lips touched his in that forest I knew I would never love another man for the rest of my life.

1.

The island people, Jack's crew and Laurelyn, Mary, the Commodore and First Mate Gillette were all organized haphazardly by the shore, awaiting the arrival of Will and myself. Almost everyone looked nervous, except for Naneth and Taeryn. Mary was ringing her hands and hopping from foot to foot, the Commodore was looking warily at the island people, but only Jahar among them noticed this. If he found it disconcerting, he didn't let on. First Mate Gillette had opted to look relaxed but his eyes were scanning the forest as anxiously as if he were my father.

Jack muttered under his breath about beating 'the boy' if he dared hide somewhere in the forest, and Laurelyn was trying, and failing, to sooth him. She kept running her hand nervously through her long blond hair and biting her lip, smacking Jack repeatedly for making her giddy. Anamaria watched this cooly with one eyebrow raised, pressing a finger to her red tattoo almost regrettably, and then pacing away from Jack with a disgusted look on her face.

That was the scene that met us when Will and I emerged from the forest, hand in hand. We walked over to Naneth, stopping randomly and stumbling when I leaned up to kiss him on the cheek or he to kiss me full on the lips. I didn't care that we hadn't reach the sea yet, or that each time Will kissed me, Jack would roar with laughter and Laurelyn would shriek something belonging more to ears fostered at Tortuga. Mary alternated between looking joyful and scandalized that Will would dare to kiss him so openly in front of so many people. I was elated and also, admittedly, very relieved to have finally come so far as to marry Will, although we would of course be having our 'official' wedding back at Port Royal.

Naneth led us down to where the waves where tumbling in and easing back, until the water was up to my thighs. She took my hands and placed them over Will's, our fingers locked and intertwined. I could barely hear the words she shouted as yet another garland of flowers was placed - this time big enough to fit over both Will and myself. I couldn't stop smiling, glad for the spray of salt-water on my face lest he see that I might have been crying too, and misunderstand. I stared up at Will, who had been for the longest time my best friend and from now on would be my husband as well.

Naneth backed away slowly, her white hair whipping all around her has her wrinkled hands passed over her eyes, wiping away her own tears. Will and I stood alone as the waves crashed in and out, and I flung my arms around him again to share my first kiss with my husband. Together we tumbled into a warm island sea.

1.

A/N: Damn. Here's _another _update for you - I am on a _roll_ this weekend. Hope you enjoy it! Review, please!


	32. One on One

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Tomorrow is my last day of school. I'm thinking two, three more chapters for this story…but you never know. Ah! I'm so excited...

-Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter up. I really wanted to start updating more regularly, but this story kind of stumped me after the last chapter. I don't think I'm a very good mush writer, and with the conflict between Will and Christina down to a bare minimum, I don't really know what to do with myself. Besides, I get bored when I have to type pages upon pages of public displays of affection. I thought I would type a whole chapter of Will/Christina happiness, but there are only so many ways to describe kissing without sounding like a trashy romance novel. Hurray for sexual tension, though. Woot woot! So here it is, you get 3 pages of Will/Christina "don't dishonor the virgin" crap, and then I finally decided that I had to move along and cut to Jack. Enjoy!

- Oh my God! I've forgotten what color eyes Mary has! This is terrible…haha, what if I slip up like I did with the Governor's name? Note to self: Before writing fanfic, make character sketches and keep them handy.

1.

When Will and I finally emerged from the water, there was no one in sight. Strangely enough, that didn't bother me. Taeryn would explain to me later that the island people have a different kind of respect for newlyweds - they do not bombard them with feasting and festivities after the wedding. The celebration would start at dusk and it was just past noon, so Will and I would have a good portion of the day to ourselves.

At some other time this would have made me nervous, but for once I wasn't. The surf had washed away all the flowers strewn about my body, and my hair had come down from its elaborate braid. It had grown quite a lot since I had left home and so was entangled with Will and I. We spent a few moments trying to sort ourselves out, but even that innocent physical contact gave way to stolen kisses, which quickly became more enthusiastic.

We stumbled ashore and lay in the sand, me on top of my new husband rather lazily. I traced patterns on his sea-soaked shirt as he gently traced the features of my face. I wanted to say something, to talk to him, but it seemed I had no words today. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence; on the contrary it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Growing a beard, are you?" I teased, tugging at the coarse hair on his chin. He rolled over and pinned me beneath him. "Maybe," he growled, nuzzling my neck and shoulders where the dress had been tugged askew. "If it pleases my wife," he continued. His face was rough but he touched me so lightly that it tickled instead of pricked my skin. I laughed, pulling him down to me and kissing him once more. It seemed we couldn't quite get enough of each other, and I blamed the island people for that. If it hadn't been for Naneth's strict rules, we probably would have been at each other's throats right now. In quite a different way, mind you. Perhaps it is how they encouraged their couples to be fruitful, this way: keep them apart long enough until eventually things overflow. I felt my face get hot just thinking it and had to quickly remind myself of what I'd told Mary - maintaining my good name was quickly becoming easier said than done.

"Get up, you lout," I muttered, trying to push him away. He didn't heed me, merely altered his movements from nuzzling my neck to kissing it. I tried very hard to keep my breathing steady, to no avail. "Will, we mustn't," I whispered, and he stopped slowly, meeting my eyes. "Especially not on the _beach!_" I gasped, leaning up on one elbow to look around, mortified that anyone had ambled on over and caught us. I felt him grin against my collarbone and place a final kiss there. "Let go of me, then, love," he said wickedly, and I shoved him. "You terrible man," I accused, trying to refrain from smiling and failing miserable. He started to laugh and I lunged at him, tackling him to the sand. "Don't you mock me, Mr. Turner!" I threatened, pressing him down with my hands splayed over his chest. It wasn't lost on me that his shirt was hardly buttoned and his skin was a burnished brown from whatever work they'd made him do in the sun. I felt the smile slip from my face just as it did his and he sat up slowly; his hands cupped my face. I found it very difficult to move from this position. To even _want_ to move from this position.

"You cannot expect me to practice so much restraint, Christina," he said hoarsely, his lips just a breath away from mine. I shifted unsteadily in his lap and he closed his eyes. I leaned in and kissed him again, this time slowly, winding my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his sea soaked curly hair. We both swayed on the spot but remained sitting up - God only knows where falling to the ground would have lead us. He pulled away rather roughly. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that you know what you're doing," he grumbled, standing up abruptly and helping me to my feet.

"What are you talking about, William?" I demanded, sorely confused and more than a little hurt. He raked a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing at me under furrowed brows. My stomach leapt faintly and I almost swayed on my feet again. It slowly dawned on me what he was saying.

"Sorry," I said weakly, wringing my hands because I didn't know what else to do with them. He shrugged and brightened suddenly, pulling something out of his pocket and taking my hand in his. "I had forgotten - Naneth took about away so quickly that I didn't get a chance to give this to you," he said, slipping a ring onto my middle finger.

"What is it?" I asked. "A ring. Your father sent it to me the day after you left." He cleared his throat and I could tell he was thinking about why I'd left. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned up to kiss him softly. "It's forgotten," I said softly, even though it wasn't and probably never would be. But it didn't matter anymore and I refused to let him think about it.

Quite frankly I didn't know what we would do with ourselves in the hours that lay before us. Will didn't seem to know either, so we walked down the beach, carefully positioned so that our skin never met. I felt my hair beginning to dry and knew it must have been tangled something awful, but I restrained myself from running fingers through my hair - last time I did that was on the top of Jack's ship, and I'd gotten my hand stuck in my hair. Will chuckled to himself, and I assumed that he was remembering the same thing.

"I suppose we'll have to go back to Port Royal soon," I said softly, surprised that I had kept the tremor out of my voice. I would go back to Port Royal, I knew there was no avoiding it; the Commodore would see to that even if my loyalty to Mary didn't demand it. And part of me rather missed my home - it was a strange thing, what the native folk said about your island, about how it would always be a part of you unless one happened to be like Anamaria. Anamaria, it seemed, was a part of bigger things. Naneth had said that Anamaria was not of an island, but of the ocean herself. I shook my head to keep from contemplating this. The point was, I missed my home and while not exactly anxious to return, Port Royal could present a certain comfort that this island, while undoubtedly beautiful, could not.

"Yes, I suppose so," Will said, a bit hesitantly. "But only if you're sure you want to - I meant what I said, when I told you we could go somewhere else, if you wouldn't be comfortable back at the port…"

"And I meant what I said when I told you that there's no way we could start over on a new island. Nor could we spend the rest of our lives with Jack," I replied, taking his hand and lacing my fingers with his. I was a bit wistful - it would be exciting to live with Jack on the Pearl, but I was of little use on his ship other than to swab the deck. And as fond as I was of the old scallywag, I did not look forward to a life up to my elbows in coarse soap and dirty washcloths.

And while life with Jack might have been exciting, it certainly wasn't the atmosphere to raise children in. I felt a pleasant shiver run through me at the thought of children. I suppose it is something that all women think about now and then, and certainly more as they reach a marriageable age. I know that Elizabeth certainly thought about having children since she turned sixteen, perhaps even before that. When I was sixteen, I wasn't thinking much of anything in the way of having children, or even getting married. When I was sixteen, I was four years into my training with Will and definitely in love with him, but I hardly even thought of marriage; mostly because, I realize now, I never thought I would get married.

And now I was. The way my life changed so dramatically in four years caused me to start laughing. It's sometimes startling how much things can change, and how you hardly notice them until you compare them with what life was like before. When I turned sixteen, I started thinking that way about life was before my mother left, and life after, but the difference was that it didn't make me laugh. Will looked at me curiously, wondering why I was suddenly so cheerful, when we had just been talking about where our lives would go from here. I smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. "Don't worry about where we are going, Will. We're here now and finally not fighting anymore. Goodness, it took long enough for us to get here," I said under my breath. Will laughed at this and kissed me on the nose. We stopped walking and I saw the sun glistening across the ocean over his shoulder. I couldn't remember feeling happier, except maybe the first time he kissed me as Jack sailed away from Port Royal after escaping the noose.

1.

Jack himself was on the other side of the island at the moment, staring into the faintly accusatory eyes of Commodore Norrington. Jack didn't feel particularly uncomfortable, seeing as how the Commodore only had himself and his First Mate, Gillette, with him. First Mate Gillette was not, in fact, here with the Commodore at the moment. Jack had a feeling that the attire of some of the island women was entirely to distracting for the bloke to handle. Perhaps he had gone to make as study of it. The pirate found it all rather amusing, and hid a smile under the pretense of smoothing his mustache. "Make no mistake, Sparrow, you are under arrest," the Commodore said tartly. Jack made a show of examining his unshackled wrists.

"Duly noted, Commodore. But I'm wondering - how is it ye plan to take me into custody? Call me blind, but I don't see yer crew anywhere," Jack said, looking around almost apologetically.

"Jack Sparrow, you are a terrible man," came a decidedly female voice. Mary Pearl made her way cautiously over the sand dune where the men were standing, holding her skirts up before her. She had traded the clothes the island women had given her for something more suitable for a woman to wear in the presence of a Commodore. And not just any Commodore, either. Mary had quite an interest in this particular upstanding gentleman of the Royal Navy. Poor Mr. Cotton would be crushed, as he'd taken to the girl quite well especially since the loss of his parrot.

Jack Sparrow grinned cheekily at the girl, much to the dismay of a certain Naval Officer who was _not_ a First Mate. Jack of course took note of this, but he never missed an opportunity to rub someone the wrong way, and a stiff-necked prude like Norrington was almost begging for it. "Mary, darling, my heart bleeds - why do ye hurt ol' Jack so?" Jack asked, winding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She raised an eyebrow at him and smelled his breath. "Good heavens, Mr. Sparrow, are you drunk?" she asked, her eyes so wide that he could have sworn she was being serious but for the impish delight that dwelt there as well.

"Love, Captain Jack's always drunk," he answered her, and she rolled her eyes at his referring to himself in the third person. "Apparently," was her only answer as she squirmed out of his grasp and looked rather flustered up at Norrington. The poor chap looked severely ill-tempered at the moment.

"Right, well, I think I fancy myself about due for a cuppa. And a woman. Where is this Laurelyn at?" Jack said jovially, tugging Mary's red hair as he turned to leave. She crossed her arms over her chest, beginning to get rather annoyed with his antics as much as she admitted that James probably deserved them. Still, she was entirely too glad to have him back on speaking terms with her to say anything to Jack. Him being the Commodore, of course.

The Commodore watched Sparrow walk away while feeling the faint edge of despondency. While he did respect the pirate - as if it weren't almost heretical for a Commodore of the Royal Navy to feel anything remotely benign towards a known and infamous criminal - the thought of Mary feeling anything more than respect and friendship for the man made him hate Jack Sparrow with a raw passion. To make matters worse, he was faintly certain that Sparrow himself knew it!

"He's been treating you well then?" Norrington asked, quickly amending with, "You and Miss Swann, I mean." Commodore Norrington cleared his throat uncomfortably and clasped his hands behind his back. He carefully kicked off the bit of sand that had collected on the toe of his boot and stood once again at attention, staring at the horizon. The _Black Pearl_, curse that bloody ship, was directly in his line of vision, of course. It seemed that James Norrington could do nothing to avoid Sparrow no matter how much he wished too.

"Oh, yes," Mary said quietly, her hands folded in front of her demurely. She stood about half a step behind him, as was befitting a woman of her station. He would have swore violently to himself if a lady hadn't been present - and, given her station, that wasn't something he was entirely obligated to do. Maids were trained to be seen and not heard, and often their superiors didn't care to guard their language around them. It was entirely different around Mary Pearl, however. The Commodore wished dearly that she'd take just half a step forward and stand in line with him, but since his discovery of her "true" identity - as maid in the Governor's household - up until now, she had been every inch the stoic maid. He rarely saw anything of the vicarious young woman who he'd met on Port Royal. Modest and shy, that Mary had had to be coaxed out of her shell before daring to speak her mind to a man - and such a man as the Commodore. _Such a man, eh?_ Norrington thought bitterly to himself, regarding Mary out of the corner of his eye. _Such a man_ wouldn't have frightened the poor girl out of her wits and sent her running into the arms of a pirate, all because of his wounded pride and fragile ego.

They hadn't spoken much since he'd arrived at this loathsome little island, and even though she had reacted happily enough to see him three days ago, it was almost as if they were strangers now. She seemed to recall almost as sharply as he did how he put her in her place. It did seem evident that she wanted to return to Port Royal, however, and quite quickly.

"Jack is wonderful. He's very kind, very funny. He made the _Pearl_ almost seem…familiar, even though I'd hardly ever been on a boat before," she said, sounding quite contented if a little shy. She trailed off suddenly, though, clearing her throat and bowing her head, her hands wringing themselves silly. It was as if she had suddenly remembered who he was and who she was - not James and Mary, the people, but James Norrington the Commodore and Mary Pearl, the maid.

"You must forgive me, Commodore. It seems I have spent too much time away from civilization; I tend to forget myself of late," she said, every inch the submissive subordinate. Norrington felt the very powerful urge to curse, but held his tongue. Then he thought better of it. "Damn it all, Miss Pearl, you do know how to goad a man into feeling immeasurable guilt!"

She flinched and he wanted to kick himself. Before he could speak, she offered up another "Forgive me," casting her eyes down to the sand and watching as the gentle movements of her skirts upset it. Norrington sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to pull himself together enough to be articulate.

"There is nothing for me to forgive," he said, his voice sounding a good deal colder than he'd intended it to. She didn't raise her eyes. "Rather, I feel that it is you who should be forgiving me, Miss Pearl -" He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her, wiping the expression away as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. "Excuse me, Commodore, I'm not sure what you mean."

"Is 'pearl' your true surname, Mary?" he asked gently. Her eyes widened at the informal way in which he said her name, and he wondered if he had suddenly allowed his voice to become too intimate in tone. "I'm afraid not, sir," she said. Of the two of them, at least she retained proper etiquette, although she did look terribly confused. "Ah, I see," he answered, not entirely surprised and trying not to let this new piece of information dissuade him from trying to connect with her again. He remembered back to how awful he felt just after her leaving, and how he'd promised he'd find her and return her safely back to Port Royal. He remembered how he was quite honestly more concerned for her safety than that of Christina Swann.

Christina could at least defend herself, although given what he knew about Mary - or rather, how little he knew about her - it was fair enough to say that maybe Mary could defend herself adequately as well.

But he doubted it.

"I'm sorry, sir," Mary was saying, looking tense and somewhat distressed. Commodore Norrington didn't consider himself a particularly sadistic man, but somehow this gave him hope. When he didn't say anything, Mary felt compelled to explain herself. "'Pearl' was my mother's maiden name. My name is Porter."

"I suppose it matters very little in truth, Miss Porter." He knew he sounded distracted, but that was mainly because he was trying to set about doing what it had taken Miss Swann this whole trip to do, and swallow his pride. He knew he cared about Mary Porter very deeply; thing about her had gotten under his skin in a way that he'd only thought possible of Elizabeth Swann. Mary and Elizabeth were polar opposites, it seemed, though. Well, perhaps not. Both were quite proper, and both were breathtakingly beautiful. Elizabeth with her blonde hair and big brown eyes and Mary with her red hair - something he'd found instantly attractive as it boasted boldness but was coupled with such a soft-spoken personality - and liquid blue eyes that appeared almost sea green at times. But whereas Elizabeth carried herself with an astonishing amount of grace and pride, Mary was rather humble and almost meek. Then again, he knew she had to be a strong woman to follow her friend as they sailed away from Port Royal with a crew of pirates. Mary was, quite simply, a confusing woman, but that was what made her so intriguing.

"Mary, I feel that I have wronged you terribly," Norrington said, turning around to face her and holding up a hand when she opened her mouth to disagree. "The way I treated you on Port Royal was terrible, and I can hardly seek to call myself a gentleman if I didn't apologize." He decided that perhaps he should let her speak. "Please, Commodore Norrington, do not apologize to me, it is a bit more humiliating than I could stand, I think." He waited for her to elaborate, and hesitantly, she did.

"All my life I have been a maid, and I had grown quite accustomed to my place," she began slowly. "It was wrong of me to impersonate someone of a higher station than myself, and even worse for me to allow you to go on believing it. If anybody was wronged here, Commodore, surely it was you."

"Perhaps," Norrington replied, and Mary flinched again. "In any event, it is not something I wish to debate over. I merely ask you to forgive me."

"Commodore, there is nothing to -"

Norrington sighed. "Please, Mary. If you wont forgive me then at the very least could you call me by my name?" he asked.

1.

"You shouldn't goad the man so," Laurelyn said, laying quite contently next to Jack on a rather large rock overlooking the sea. The sun had warmed the rock considerably, and while she had changed back into her old clothes instead of the clothes given to her, she had removed her jacket and now was dressed in a loose fitting white shirt and tight riding pants. She had altered them herself after having had enough of bulky petticoats or narrow skirts divided for riding. Not that Laurelyn had a horse; Tortuga's stables were too full of drunks and pigsties to allow the proud animals a space there, and Laurelyn didn't think she had quite enough money to support the pub and her little clothing boutique.

"Why not? Goading him into it was the only way he'd ever talk to Miss Mary-belle," Jack said leisurely, rolling on his side and waggling his eyebrows at her. Laurelyn was not nearly as affected by Jack Sparrow as she once was, although he was still devastatingly appealing to her - every sunburned, tattooed, dread-locked inch of him.

"In my experience, it isn't wise to taunt a Commodore," she said, shoving his shoulder and sitting up on her knees to peer down at him. Her long blond hair made a curtain around him and she leaned in to kiss him on the lips, something she'd been doing more and more frequently as of late. It would be hard to watch him drop her off at Tortuga and go around plundering and pillaging again. If that blasted Governor's daughter hadn't come into the dress shop, it might have been a while before Laurelyn saw Jack again, a fact she wasn't sure she was either happy or bitter about. Then again, Laurelyn was loath to blame this on her fellow woman, so she instead decided to blame it on that infernal blacksmith, Turner.

"Well, love, we're leaving tonight and the Commodore is leaving on his little rowboat tomorrow morning. We'll be far away from here by the time he assembles those nincompoops he calls a Navy. And perhaps Miss Pearl'll convince him that catching me isn't quite a top priority," Jack said nonchalantly.

Laurelyn sighed. They were leaving tonight. It gave her precious little time left with him, but she was used to that. In her heart she knew that her love for Jack Sparrow was returned, though he hadn't been very mouthy about it. She knew that if she asked him to, he probably would stay with her on Tortuga for as long as he was able. But what she had realized long ago - or perhaps not long ago, she wasn't that much older than Christina Swann, after all - was that if she tried to keep Jack with her on land, the love he felt for her would turn quickly to hate.

If you love him, let him go, right? It seemed that's how Laurelyn was going to live out her life with him. She couldn't leave her father alone on Tortuga, and frankly she was proud of the life she had made for herself there. She was one of the few women who got buy on Tortuga without joining a brothel of some sort. She was also one of the few women not perpetually knackered. Besides, Jack showing up unexpectedly into her life made it easier to stay interested in the man. She'd never particularly favored the droll humdrum life that Christina would be sailing right into on her return to Port Royal.

"You better not get yourself hanged, Jack Sparrow. I shall never forgive you if you do," she said roughly, flinging a leg over him and straddling his chest when he tried to get up. It was the last that was said between them for a very long while.

1.

A/N: Romance, but not mush. Coming up: Jack and the crew of the _Black Pearl_ make their goodbyes and set sail, Christina and Mary are headed back to Port Royal, and the wedding planning begins for real this time!


	33. Choices

Disclaimer: Don't own.

The feast began as the sky began to turn orange instead of it's pure, opal blue. The sun set as slowly as I'd ever seen it, which may have been yet another part of the island magic, and the feast would last until the very last portion of the sky yielded to the inky black of night.

Taeryn, Maurya, Naneth, Taeryn's husband and four other island men came to meet Will and I, along with Jack, Laurelyn, Mary and Commodore Norrington, oddly enough. Will and I were lifted up onto a large piece of wood that, I would soon find out, would become a dais where we would eat. There were columns on each corner of the square piece of wood, and from them hung a canopy woven of vines with red blossoms. We were taken into the forest to the very center of the island and places down in the center of a clearing. I was led away from Will once more by the island women. This part of the ceremony was hurriedly done - it seemed that everyone wanted to have time for the feasting and the dancing before Will and I were left alone for our very first night as husband and wife.

I alternated between praying for the sun to never set, and praying for night to hurry up and come already. Of course, I remembered my promise to Mary - but what if Will was expecting some of me? Would I really refuse him on our wedding night? Granted, it was an island wedding - which in fact, made it all the more romantic for me - but I was terribly frightened. I was twenty-years old, hardly a youth and well into my prime, but I'd never been in a position like this before. Besides, I _wanted _to be with Will, propriety be damned! I had refused to conform all my life - or, at the very least, I'd not gone willingly into corsets and bonnets. Why be a stickler for custom now? What Mary didn't know couldn't possibly hurt her.

Taeryn helped me dress once again. This time, I was given a dress that strongly resembled the ones the married island women wore. It was made of deerskin, though incredibly soft to the skin. But instead of the rich brown that the island women wore, this dress was lighter, untouched, an opaque off white the color of sand. Virginal, I noticed with an ironic smile. The butterflies in my stomach started to flutter anew, and I desperately wanted them to go back to their cocoons.

Once again, the dress was sleeveless, although it did have a high collar. On my chest, the dress was slashed in the shape of a teardrop, and the skin that would have been exposed was hidden with well-placed strings of tiny red shells that clicked together each time I drew in a breath. The teardrop stopped just short of being rather embarrassing, but another shape was cut over my stomach, and there was only one large shell here, held in place by the same thin strings the men used to fix arrowheads to their spears.

The bottom portion of the dress was cut open in the middle at just above my knees, the fabric at the opening ornately embroidered. Parts of the skirt were sewn up in an odd imitation of petticoats, which of course they weren't, and in the front the same strings of shells kept my legs from being exposed entirely.

Along with being dressed very quickly, Naneth, Maurya, and Taeryn also set about plaiting my hair back in braids. This time, however, there were no flowers woven into my hair, but the long dark curtain of my once unruly mane was pulled back entirely so that I could feel the air on my neck and back.

The final part of getting me ready for the feast and the first night of the rest of my life was to paint my face. A long blue line was painted between my eyebrows and down my nose. My eyes were line with kohl, dark wings painted from the corners of my eyes. My lips were stained with red; blood red, the red of life. Naneth, Maurya, and Taeryn each kissed me one both cheeks and the lips before making three points around me - Naneth in front, Maurya to my left and Taeryn to my right. Laurelyn and Mary walked behind me side by side, scattering petals in my wake.

"Tonight you are not simply a woman," Naneth said, not turning around to speak to me, yet her voice carrying all the same. "You are a goddess, a huntress, a vessel for life, of earth and island. You go to meet the man whose heart was made for yours; your stag, your consort. He is the sun to you, the sea, a dipper of water to an untouched land." She did turn around then, noticing that I'd stopped walking when I heard the disapproving _tut_ that Mary gave from behind me.

"Forgive me, Naneth. On my island, it is not seemly for a man to lay with a woman to whom he is not -" I broke off. To say "not married to" would be rude, because by the rules of this island, Will and I were man and wife. Naneth did not seem perturbed, however.

"You do wish for the papers, do you not?" she said, a faint smile on her face. She touched my cheek gently, then traced the tattoo on my shoulder. "It is too easy for this old woman to forget you are not truly of this island - parts of your own island will remain with you forever. Jack brought you to us too late, it does seem. Very well. I will tell you this, my daughter. Whatever you do choose tonight, there do not be any shame in it. Follow your heart, it will not lead you astray."

I smiled and kissed Naneth's weathered brown hand. "Thank you, Naneth," I said softly, and meaning it. Jack is much wiser than I ever gave him credit for - him bringing Will and I to this island turned out to be exactly what we needed. There were still a few things that I was unclear about in this whole marriage business, and most of them had to do with what my purpose would be once we reached Port Royal. But being around these island people, with their brown, lean bodies and their views on life and love; how they revered their women as opposed to caging them into portable metal cages, it took away at least some of the fear. Whatever my role would be once we reached Port Royal, I knew I would do all I could to make it what _I_ chose.

"You are welcome here any time, my daughter," Naneth said in her gravelly voice, and I felt my throat constrict almost painfully. I'd never known my grandparents on my mother's side, and my father's parents had wanted nothing to do with Elizabeth and I. Naneth was like a mother and a grandmother in one petite frame. Her white hair glinted amber in the red light of the sun, beating down over the clearing. She was old and young at once, a mother, a sister, and a grandmother to me all at one moment. The sun felt warmer, the air bit into my skin and suffused it with island life even though it was quite warm. I could smell the celebratory beast being roasted, and the barrels of fish as they were cooked as well. The flowers and the trees of the forest hummed with life, I could feel the vibrating up through my very toes and into every part of me.

Naneth touched my face again and with I would later come to recall as the final step of my initiation in to the island whispered, "Raven's child." With a start I realized it as very similar to what my mother used to call me, but before I could dwell on it Naneth was turning away briskly and shouting that the feast would commence. Across the clearing I saw Will, shirtless and garbed in trousers of deerskin so burnished and dark they were almost black. He was across a bonfire, his body shimmering and wavering in the heat. On his chest, over his heart, was the same symbol tattooed on my shoulder, only about three times as large. A navy blue circle with a crescent moon inscribed in it. Squinting and being led closer, I could make out a navy raven in flight also inscribed in the circle, tiny in comparison but present nonetheless.

Maurya and Taeryn let go of my arms and I took my first step towards my husband as the sun continued to descend and the sky turned violet in reply.

1.

The feast lasted well into the night, longer than I had originally thought. It seemed that the island people had precious few celebrations of this caliber, and would take full advantage of them whenever the opportunity arose. I myself quickly lost track of time; between the eating and the dancing and the very ceremonial drinking of potent wine made from the inside of flowers, I didn't spare a thought about how this would very likely be my last night among such amazing people. I once again went back on my vow of never having anything with alcohol to drink again - but, as it was island wine and not rum, I decided that it was all right.

Finally, when even the light of the bonfire had died down so much that I could only vaguely make out the shapes of people dancing, laughing and carrying on, Naneth made her way to the center of the site. She threw a handful of something on the fire and it leapt up in flames of green and blue, and died down to red embers all in the same moment. I had no idea what that meant, but evidently everyone else did. It was successful in gaining everyone's attention, anyway.

"The time has come for us to retire," she proclaimed loudly, and the people did not make any disappointed murmurs, except perhaps for a few of the young girls and boys, who were having a lot of fun just being around each other. Naneth, in the dim glow of the embers, smiled as if she had been expecting that.

"The bonded shall retire to their wedding bed," she continued, and I felt my face flush heatedly once again, glad that it was dark so that Will couldn't see me. He seemed to catch on anyway - he could be remarkably perceptive when he wanted to be; when he wasn't too busy being a hardheaded _hero_, anyway.

Assuming that everyone was going to quietly leave, I walked over to the dais which Taeryn had explained to me would also serve as my wedding bed. It had been loaded with cushions and blankets sometime during the party, but I couldn't for the life of me have told you when. At first I had my doubts about it - it was made of wood, however, and didn't look very comfortable. Naneth took me over to the little makeshift bed chamber as each of the island folk walked over and places flowers around it before leaving. Mary looked horrified at the thought that if I so chose, I would be with a man for the very first time outside, on a tiny wooden raft with beams sticking out at each corner, no matter how many flowers and embroidered cushions garlanded it.

Naneth kissed me on both cheeks, and kissed Will as well. When she came up to place flowers at the foot of the dais, Laurelyn gave me a wicked grin before entwining her hand with Jack's. Jack offered a rather roguish wink to Will and a sly grin my way.

"Oh, off with you!" I snarled, feeling as though my face would explode if they didn't stop looking so blasted _knowing_. Mary, quite frankly, looked frightened on my behalf, and yet strangely excited for me also. She hugged me quickly and whispered in my ear, "Do what you think is right, Christina," before leaving with the Commodore and Gillette on each side of her. She didn't know how much this would torment me; or perhaps she did, which would explain why she said it. She was still garbed in a proper dress which evidently Commodore Norrington had thought would be necessary to bring along while he came to "rescue" Mary and I. Before I knew it, everyone was gone.

Very quickly, perhaps much too quickly, Will and I were alone. I coughed nervously, the scents of all the flowers making my throat itchy and my mouth dry. Will said nothing, but I could see his face in the moonlight. The dais had been placed with expert care - evidently the island people knew how to put it just so, so that the moon would be visible through the clearing. It looked unnaturally large, and beautifully so. If I hadn't already been struggling for breath, the moon would have taken my breath away.

Will didn't seem to be quite so nervous as I was, and I wanted to smack him soundly for it. Of course, it occurred to me now, he'd probably done this _loads_ of times before. I felt very foolish suddenly, and very, very young. Never mind the fact that Will and I were the same age, with him being the elder by only a few scant months. There was a gulf separating us now that had nothing to do with age, but instead with experience. Sure, I could wallop him with a sword - mostly due to his exceptional teaching, but also due to my insane urge to be able to do _something_ well that wasn't sewing or tittering away at some rich man's boring monologue. I could kiss and giggle and dally on with Will and, as of now, be almost comfortable with it. I could join a pirate's crew and save my sister from undead monsters. I could duel with pirates and endure getting slashed in the ribs - something not every woman could do, truth be told.

But marry a man and share his bed? To do the things that I, as a woman - and a Christian woman at that, brought up in essence _properly_ (although propriety failed me time and time again, if not vice versa) - was made to do? To truly be with the man I love in a way as to bring children into this world? Well, it would seem that I was to be a failure to womankind. Try as I might I couldn't bring myself to meet Will's eyes. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and as I'd decided to leave it up to Will, he wasn't of much help to me either. He just stood where he was, so damn much taller than me, and didn't say a word. His hands found mine, which were cold and trembling, and he said softly, "You have only to do what you wish to do."

"DAMN YOU, WILLIAM!" I shouted, pulling my hands away from him and pacing away in the darkness. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him. He looked puzzled, and then rather angry. Good, I thought. If I made him angry, maybe he'd make the decision for me, like he'd done on the _Pearl_, when he shoved me against the wall. I felt something jump somewhere in my stomach, a thrill of fear and wanting, so entwined that I didn't know which was which. I glanced at Will again. He was struggling to control himself.

"I don't know what I _wish_ to do," I said angrily, cursing the cool air that brushed against my chest, stomach, and legs, making the shells that were hanging there clink against each other. The trees were whispering and I could hear, ever so faintly, the sounds of waves on the shore. Suddenly I wanted to run away into the forest, into the ocean, anywhere away from the man I loved so much, and who so frightened me. Who I so desperately, desperately wanted, but didn't know how to ask for.

"I understand how you must be afraid, Christina, but I will not do you any intentional harm," he said softly. I snorted. "Oh, Will, that _is_ so reassuring. Now I know that any harm you do me is completely _unintentional._ Let's have at it, then, shall we?" I glared at him with my arms folded over my chest, and even in the moonlight I could see how his ears turned red.

"You are the crudest woman I know," Will said, but he sounded rather fond which, inexplicably, irritated me more. "What I meant was - the first time, for you…it can be…uncomfortable." He sounded apologetic. I very nearly ran away at that. Instead, I raised my chin. "Well, I knew _that_ of course. Having been through it before." I don't know why I said it, I really don't. But I hated being on uneven footing with him, hated him knowing so much more of these things than I did. Even in our wildest conversations, we'd never spoken of this. It was all well and fine for me to practice swordplay with him in a sweaty white shift, but there were things one did not talk about. And this subject was definitely one of them.

The expression on Will's face changed so quickly that it was almost laughable, if his expression didn't change to one of fury. "What are you saying, Christina?" he demanded, and again I felt another thrill of fear. He sounded enraged, betrayed, and protective all at the same time. Protectiveness won out in the end, though, and I could have kissed him for it, as well as thumped him upside the head.

"Who has had you, Christina? And why didn't you tell me?" He sounded as though he'd hunt down whatever names I gave him and make them pay for ever touching me. Too bad he'd be hunting down ghosts.

"I could ask you the very same thing, William." He sighed, and if I wasn't very much mistaken it was with relief. "It is different for me -"

"It most certainly is _not_, William!"

"Do _not_ toy with me, woman! Who has known you?" he said angrily. The fact that the answer was _nobody_, and it was quite a simple answer really - and that I had caused trouble again - was amusing to me. The focus was not on me making a decision that I clearly had no idea how to make, and instead we were fighting again. And I was very good and secure in fighting with Will. It was almost fun.

"A handful of the stable boys," I said airily. Will growled angrily and grabbed me by the arm, spinning me around. It seemed ages since he'd last done it, and I was caught off guard. I could hear it as the shells on the bottom of my dress hit him in the shins as I spun. "I want names," he said dangerously.

"I don't _know_ their names!" I snapped, trying to wrench myself free and aware that my answer had sounded a lot worse than I'd meant it to. For a minute I thought Will was going to slap me, but he didn't. I probably would have torn out his eyes if he did, although I'm quite sure I did deserve a good thrashing. Likely Naneth would agree.

Instead Will let go of me so quickly you'd think I'd been on fire. "You are a very different woman than I thought I knew," he said hoarsely, and quite suddenly I didn't want to fight anymore.

"Will," I said softly, touching his shoulder (he'd turned his back on me) and making him freeze. "There hasn't been anyone," I whispered. He turned around and looked me dead in the eye with a gaze so hard I thought I'd turned to stone. I could barely breathe. "Then why did you say -"

"Bloody flaming hell, I'm _scared_, Will! And its so much easier to fight with you than to admit that," I added softly, looking away. Will pulled my chin up so I could look him in the eye. "What did you think I would do? Do you think I'd force you?" he asked, and suddenly, even though there were shadows across his face, I could tell he was hurt. I felt terrible, then, that I'd lied to him. But what made me feel worse is that Will didn't even question me when I told him the truth; he trusted me completely. Or perhaps I was just easy to read, perhaps it was obvious that I was untouched, untried. I was annoyed again.

I shoved him. "_Don't_ you make me feel guilty, Will! Of course I know you wouldn't! But," I broke off, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. The fact was, it wasn't him I was frightened of at all, but instead it was what my choices would lead me to become. Wench or Governor's daughter? Sinner or angel? Wild or caged?Act on impulse, on desire, on love; or repress myself and wait? Would he thinkdifferently of me, depending on my choice?Thoughts were speeding, flying through my head faster than I could hope to understand them. I felt faintly sick. "I had hoped that you'd choose for me," I finished. Will looked mildly surprised. "That is the last thing I would ever expect to hear you say, Christina."

"Yes, well, there you have it." I felt my eyes begin to sting and I turned away from him, willing myself not to cry. I mustn't cry in front of him, I was pathetic enough already. "_You_ don't understand. This is a terribly important decision - on the one hand, I could say 'Yes, Will Turner, take me I'm yours!' and be _just_ _like_ my mother. On the other, I could say no, and be like Elizabeth because surely that's what she would do." And I was suddenly very confused, even more so than before. Did I want to be like my mother, who was beautiful and strong and free? My mother, who had left Elizabeth and I when we were ten? My mother, who had followed her heart, no matter who she hurt along the way? Did I dare be that free?

Or Elizabeth, who was caged, but the perfect portrait of a happy songbird. Elizabeth, who was beautiful and proper and who _almost_ followed her heart, and would have too if I hadn't gotten in the way of her and Will. Elizabeth, who had hurt me deeply and who I still, unaccountably, loved. Elizabeth, who everyone loved and envied, who could make acting on impulse seem admirable because she was just that perfect. My mother, or Elizabeth? I looked to Will and begged him silently to choose. Who did he want me to be? But he was silent. I thought of saying no, and how I would be Elizabeth to him then. _No, no, no!_ I took a step closer and leaned up to kiss him, gently, on the lips. Would I become Belynda St. Paul in this moment?

Very quickly I discovered that gentle wasn't something that I wanted anymore. I clung tightly to him, felt his bare skin under my hands as we tumbled onto the dais amidst the cushions and the flowers. He was everywhere, above me, around me and I was more alive than I'd ever felt before. There was fear and anger, sadness and an almost painful joy; but most of all there was love. Will loved _me _as he whispered my name. Not Elizabeth's, and certainly not my mother's. Will loved _me _as he kissed me soundly, the only sounds were the distant smack of the sea on the shore and the hum of the trees and the sand; the sounds of the island interrupted by the ragged breathing of my husband and I as our lips broke apart.

"Are you sure?" he asked me, tracing the tattoo on my shoulder with a careful reverence. I bit my lip and took a deep breath. And sneezed. The scent of the flowers had actually begun to get to me. I grinned apologetically as for the second time that I could remember, Will closed his eyes because I'd sneezed on him. "I'm sorry," I said, laughing as he rolled off of me. I curled up next to him, my head on his shoulder and my right hand tracing his tattoo. In the end, it was the island I suppose that chose for me. I was not my mother's daughter, nor was I my sister's sister. Not completely. I was more than that. I was myself, and I was in love with Will Turner as he lay, breathing harshly, beside me. My husband, regardless of what documents were needed. I was more married to him now than any pompous ceremony could proclaim.

I took a deep breath and the scent of the island flowers did not make me sneeze this time. I looked up at Will, and saw that he was watching me steadily. He didn't look boyish, he didn't look awkward or unsure. With a dull pang of jealousy, I realized that this was nothing new to him. He had been here before, with another girl. Another woman. I raised my chin and glared at him, jealous that he wasn't as nervous as I was, jealous that some other woman had loved him before me, jealous that this choice had to be made by me. It wasn't his fault, of course. It was only natural - and that grated against me, that it was_ natural_ for men to go about and enjoy whichever wench threw herself at them while women must stay cloistered and chaste inside stone walls and metal corsets - and we'd be in even more of a mess had Will been as inexperienced as I. I wasn't angry with him, of course, but instead felt in me rise a fierce love. This man was mine, now, as much as I was his.

"You are my husband, Will Turner," I said softly, heatedly, ready to answer his question as myself, and no one else. "I have never been so sure of anything in this life."


	34. Homebound

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Elizabeth had been untouched by the gossip mongering well-to-do's of Port Royal for most of her life. At least, from the most hurtful gossip, anyway. Whatever people did have to say about her had only to do with her latest dress or hairstyle, or which rich old man or fine-looking well-born stallion would be her next suitor. The more hurtful tittering was uttered by malicious sewing circles of matrons while they looked on full of pompous disapproval; or fascinated and reluctantly condemning girls Elizabeth's age or younger trying to at least seem as disapproving as their mothers - well, that was generally reserved for Christina. Elizabeth was the social butterfly of Port Royal, with many men clamoring for her affections, waxing and waning with her interest from gathering to gathering. They revolved around her and when she it didn't please her to humor them, they found the second, third, and forth most desirable girl to attend to while waiting for their turn again.

Christina was not the second, third, or fourth most desirable girl of Port Royal. While the more relaxed of Port Royal's rich patrons were rather indulgent towards Christina Swann - the way a soft-hearted old lady might be indulgent towards a stray cat, enough to let it have a litter of kittens under her roof - most were staunch in their displeasure. If they saw Christina as comparable to a feline, it was only in the way that made them turn up their nose. A litter of kittens was no good to anyone, and frequently ended up making a nice parlor smell terribly.

All that at changed, however, since Christina had abruptly left Port Royal after catching Elizabeth and Will in the garden. The gossip hadn't lessened, and Elizabeth did not expect it to. But it had a new face now. The approving smiles of the more esteemed matrons of Port Royal had turned cold when they fell upon Elizabeth. The younger girls glared accusingly - something they wouldn't have dared to do a few months back. Naturally, everyone knew that Elizabeth had fancied the poor blacksmith, Mr. Turner, and she wasn't alone in her affections. Will Turner was one of the best looking bachelor's Port Royal had to offer - but not to upstanding gentlewomen such as Miss Swann - either of them. This didn't change the fact that he was the most talented blacksmith Port Royal had had in years, and the most sober one at that. The men liked him because he knew his business with swords, and the girls liked him because he knew his way with swords and was quite handsome about it too. The matrons tried desperately not to like him, but whenever he came to call with a completed order they couldn't help but wish that he was more well-born. What their grandchildren would look like if he were to marry one of their girls! Why, more beautiful children couldn't hope to be found, especially if Will and Elizabeth were to marry. Which, of course, they wouldn't. But young William had the charm of a little puppy, so stern mothers and stately grandmothers alike had a soft spot where he was concerned.

When the news broke that Christina was going to marry Will, there was a great deal of shock going around the upper circles of Port Royal. Well, many thought, if one of the daughters of the Governor insisted on marrying beneath her, better it be Christina than Elizabeth. Everyone who was anyone with a son at Port Royal breathed a sigh of relief - Elizabeth was still the most eligible bachelorette, and although she was getting on in years - dear, the girl would be twenty-one come January! - she still looked as young and rosy-cheeked as when she was sixteen. And her beauty only intensified with the years.

Elizabeth didn't feel young and rosy-cheeked anymore, though. She had gone down to the docks almost every day since Christina had left, and religiously since the Commodore had gone after her. Recently, she'd been met with Jerome Dawson. She had known the sandy-haired young man ever since she had been at Port Royal. She knew him because he worked at his mother's dress shop, admittedly one of Elizabeth's favorite places at Port Royal. Jerome had always insisted that his meeting her here was completely by accident; indeed, he often had a box with him that boasted of some delivery or another. But often she found that he went out of his way to stand by her for a moment or two, always to ask the same question: "No sign of them yet, Miss Swann?" and to offer her a roguish grin that she was quite obliged to turn her nose up at.

"No, Mr. Dawson, the Commodore hasn't brought her back yet. Good day," Elizabeth would respond stiffly, walking away angrily and hopping a carriage back to the mansion. He was always so infuriating, looking at her as if he could read her mind, knowing the guilt she had twisted herself up in. Oh, he had never presumed to speak it aloud, of course - he must have known how swiftly she would have upbraided him and put him in his place - but the very thought that he would grin at her so! Oh, it made her mad enough to scream. But she didn't need anyone talking about rubbish about her than they were already.

Far from being Port Royal's favorite social butterfly, Elizabeth was now the object of talk among her peers. They were frankly appalled at her behavior, and Elizabeth had begun wishing fervently that her father's servants weren't quite so keen to notice everything that went on at the mansion. At the very least they should have the prudence not to talk about it! But no, they went and ran their mouths at every opportunity; obviously, the falling out that had taken placed between the Swann daughters was all over Port Royal and has spread like a plague from the roots of the town to the tips of the societal branches.

Elizabeth was not the perfect little lady anymore; oh, no. Now she was a base wench who went out of the way to steal the one man who had found love with Christina. Christina, who had always been the overlooked one, the black sheep, the odd lot. The Swann daughter who was not the first, second, third or fourth most desirable woman in Port Royal's inner circle. The girl all the other girl's put up with because she was good for a laugh and because she was the Governor's firstborn daughter. Maybe even because some of the other ladies lived through Christina, who was frank and coarse and very much like the mother that they'd only heard about but never seen. The daughter of a woman who had run off with a pirate! How romantic, how adventurous - how very different from the droll, properly comfortable life that the rich young women of Port Royal led.

No, for the first time everyone else was seeing Elizabeth for what she truly was: a selfish, self-centered, well-born woman accustomed to getting whatever it was she wanted. Even Elizabeth herself was seeing what she truly was - and she didn't like it one bit. For as long as she could remember, everyone was praising her for everything that she did right. She was meek and quiet when it pleased her to be so; she was defiant when she had to be - for example, upon meeting Jack Sparrow for the first time, she had objected blatantly to Commodore Norrington's proposal of hanging the pirate. When he turned on her, however, she didn't hesitate to loath him as a proper lady should.

Elizabeth swore she would apologize to Christina once she got back, and Will too. She would simper and curtsy and lower her eyes if she had to! It was partly out of a desire to form a true sisterly bond with her twin; it had been years since one had existed. Another reason was to get Will to talk to her again - not as a lover, but at least as a friend. She also knew that he had been in love with her at one point, as much as she had been in love with him. And she wanted to know if there was a man behind those dashing good looks, one whom it would justify the eight years Elizabeth spent wishing he was more well-born so he could court her and kiss her and marry her one day. And no matter what seasoned old ladies said, marriage _had_ to be more than an obligation. She knew how her father had adored her mother, and now she knew how her mother had been passionately in love with another man prior to marrying the Governor. Elizabeth had wanted passion, and she had wanted it with someone as handsome as Will Turner. Passion and love had been one and the same to Elizabeth, along with adventure and fantasy and romance.

But that had changed now. She didn't want passion, she wanted her sister back. She wanted people to stop calling her "the other woman," and accusing her of greed and selfishness. She wanted to go back to when everyone liked her. No, she wanted to go farther back. She wanted to go back to when her mother was here; when she and Christina were still friends. When she believed that Father was really her father, and that she wasn't the daughter of some unknown man who could be anywhere in the world. She must be like him, because from what she could tell she wasn't very much like her mother - that was Christina. Perhaps all Elizabeth had inherited from Belynda Swann was her selfishness, then.

Elizabeth stared across the ocean at the bare horizon, lost in her thoughts and thoroughly ignoring Jerome Dawson, who was watching her with an odd little smile on his lips. She was so lost that she started to stare instead at the hem of her dress which was making little hills in the sand. When she looked up there was a tiny black dot where the sky met the sea, moving with the unbearable slowness of a tiny tri-sailed boat and heading straight for Port Royal as fast as the wind would grant it speed.

1.

I awoke to feel the warmth of the sun on my face and with much more sand in my eyes than I was accustomed to. I sighed and wished for a moment that I was back at Port Royal, alone and comfortable in my own bed instead of on a pillow-scattered dais, with Will's heavy arm across my chest, his head tucked into my shoulder and his breath doing funny things to my stomach as he exhaled on my skin. I made sure to stay quite still so he wouldn't wake up - I was much too confused to have to deal with him smiling all smugly at me, like I knew he would do.

There were dew drops still on the mosaic of flowers that hung all around, decorating the gauzy cloth that surrounded us. My eyes were dazzled with colors, my nose with fragrances of sweet honey-suckle and vanilla, and my skin with the itchy, uncomfortable feeling that I used to get when I did something wrong and was about to be caught by my father. I prayed fervently, albeit ridiculously, that my father hadn't somehow found a way to this island to stumble upon Will and I lying tangled and in various states of undress in the middle of a forest. He might literally have a coronary and die.

Will still slept soundly in a way that I was quite jealous of him for. At the same time, I felt an odd sort of pride: I had evidently exhausted him. My face heated up considerably at the thought and I threw my mind in any other direction than thinking about last night, the curious happenings of which still puzzled me. According to every proper lady that I'd ever come into contact with, what I had done last night was a grave sin and upon returning to Port Royal I'd have to go straight to confession - and even hours upon hours of penance wouldn't absolve me from my trespass. It would be straight to Hell for my damned soul, to be sure. In fact, what I had done last night was so unforgivable that most ladies who went so far as to consider themselves ladies didn't even think about it, much less talk about it. The only proof that they'd done what I'd done is that they have children, but they'll tell anyone who will listen that a canary brought the bouncy baby to their doorstep one day, or some other such rubbish.

A terrible thought struck me at that moment and only exhaustion kept me from leaping away from Will. What if I'd gotten with child last night? The thought was nearly too horrible to bear. Do not get me wrong - I want to have children as much as the next newlywed woman, a fact that surprised even me. But to have a child conceived on an island, in the heart of heathendom? What was I thinking last night? And Will! How dare he lure me into this! A child of mine, born a bastard? Oh, _what_ would my mother say?

I bit my lip thoughtfully. My mother would probably heartily approve. It is my father that I should be worried about - but I had no intention of telling him, either. Imagine how that conversation would commence: "Father, you know that time that I ran away for weeks on end? Well, yes. I took part in a native ceremony and was received into a tribe. Smashing, I know. Then I proceeded to be married by island customs, forsake honor in its entirety and get with child by the town's blacksmith!" My poor father would likely drown himself.

I took a deep breath and asserted that I just could not possibly be pregnant. For one thing, I didn't feel pregnant. I felt perfectly normal, if sore and rather flustered. I firmly decided, then, that I wasn't the least bit pregnant and refused to worry about it until we got back to Port Royal.

I was concentrating on the sounds of the distant waves against the shore and the wind through the trees, trying not to feel every inch of my skin that was touching Will's, when I felt him whisper "Hello, my wife," in my ear. I nearly screamed out loud as I jerked around to look at him. "Will!" I said admonishingly, which he thoroughly ignored and planted a kiss on my lips that at once had me reeling and also pushing away uncomfortably.

"Will!" I said again, breathless and staring up at his complacent smile softened only by the look of joy in his eyes. I wanted desperately to punch him, but settled instead for pulling whatever blankets I could up to my chest and trying desperately to keep from touching him. "What?" he asked, pulling me closer. I crossed my arms over my chest in one final attempt to keep my skin away from his, but he only smiled. "Stop it!" I whispered half-heartedly, not wanting to cast my lot anymore in the direction of "sin" than it already was. He looked at me, wounded and possibly unable to fathom what it was that had me so confused.

"What is wrong?" he asked. I bit my lip. "Nothing," I said quickly, so quickly that it was obvious that I was lying through my teeth. He sighed. "We're married now, Christina. You can tell me," he said, sounding almost sad. I sighed again. "It's nothing…just…well, what we did last night. Would it…would it be all right with you if we didn't do that again until we get back to Port Royal?" I asked in a rush, hating how I felt my face heat up and wishing he would go away.

Will blinked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," I said quickly, wanting more and more to disappear somewhere cool and dark and away from him. Will smiled slowly and leaned in to kiss me again. The truth was that I wanted very much to have an encore but was now fearing greatly not only for my soul, but for the soul of whatever child I might have gotten with Will last night. Even though I had firmly decided that there was no child, all the same it pays to be cautious. I let him kiss me, and admittedly I kissed him back quite happily. Things were going along quite well, except for one thing.

It was broad daylight. Somehow this fact came back to me through the hazy, happy fog that was my mind. "Stop!" my brain screamed, and within a quarter of an hour, my body obeyed. I tore my lips away from Will's - instead of a rushing passion that had taken us last night, in the daylight he was taking his time. "We can't!" I gasped, trying to pull away. He had me pinned down to the hard wooden floor of the dais and one of his hands was tangled in my hair. The other was decidedly hidden from view.

"Don't, Will." I was begging quietly and he pulled away. "What's the matter?" he asked again. I shrugged uncomfortably, pulling the blanket up to my chest and sitting up to reach for my dress that was rather worse for wear. I struggled to pull it over my head without losing hold of the blankets - no mean feat, I assure you.

"Well, first of all, the pillows are all scattered," I said lamely, the excuse falling flat even to my ears.

"Love, are you still so shy after last -"

"Oh, William! You cannot be so crude that you would say it aloud!" I said nervously, sitting with my dress around my neck and the blanket up to where the dress stopped covering me. I couldn't move, nor could I pull the blanket away as it was the only one and it was covering Will as well as myself. He was unabashedly naked to the waist and laying back with a comfort and ease that made me want to either pounce on him to attack him, or to do something far less innocent and far more friendly. Will grinned wider as he tugged me down to lay atop him. "You were far less modest last night, I think, my dear," he suggested. I glared down at him. "Do not get me in a temper, William! I do not know what I should do!" I threatened him. He responded by looking even more amused, a light dancing in his eyes that was all lust and love and eagerness. "I look forward to it." He touched my shoulder, my side, my hip and I trembled.

"No! Anyone could be coming to wake us right now! Jack could be coming! Mary! The _Commodore!_" I yelped, horrified and pulling away from him again.

This time I threw modesty to the wind in order to pull the blasted dress over my head, an action met with an impatient groan from my dear husband. "Christina!" he said, and I stood up quickly to keep him from touching me again. The dress was barely hanging on together as it was, and I knew that if Will kissed me one more time I would tear it to shreds myself and spend at least a week in this tiny little dais, pillows or no pillows.

"Get up, Will, we've got to go. I'm sure we can't stay here any longer, and I want to say goodbye to Jack and Laurelyn." Will sighed and pushed himself to his feet and I crossed my arms over my chest, my face heating unwillingly.

"If you think to tempt me, Mr. Turner, by standing around naked as the day you were born, it wont work," I warned. I picked up his clothes and bundled them in my arms so he wouldn't see my hands shaking. He didn't say anything, only looked at me with a grin and stretched. I raised my chin. "It wont!" I shouted, throwing his clothes at him and marching away with the strangest desire to burst out laughing. My soul was damned, no doubt about it.

Will and I were walking arm in arm moments later to the coast to say goodbye to Jack and the crew. When we got there, however, the only ship to be seen on the horizon was the tiny boat that the Commodore had sailed here. The _Black Pearl_, with her looming hull and her ebony sails - rich and whole, now, instead of the deathly tattered grave-black under Barbossa - was nowhere to be seen, and the natural harbor looked large and lonely without it.

"Where's Jack?" I asked bluntly. "Good morning to you too," Mary sniffed, looking pressed and proper in her clothes brought by Commodore Norrington. The Commodore himself was standing ramrod straight and unflappable in the light breeze. Gillette looked at Will and I with eyes that were laughing, and I took my arm from Will's and crossed both of them defiantly over my chest. It only amused the First Mate more, unfortunately.

"Mr. Sparrow took his leave of this island sometime in the middle of the night," Commodore Norrington drawled, looking quite bored and ready to leave. The island folk came out and surrounded us so quickly that the Commodore's face actually showed surprise, although Will, Mary, and I were already quite used to that. He smoothed over his features at once, however, and went on. "We shall be leaving momentarily, but I have a feeling that you will want to make your goodbyes."

"Kind of you," I said shortly, his flippant manner irritating me. Mary looked like she might admonish me, but I glowered at her and she held her tongue. With Jack gone without so much as a goodbye, I was annoyed. I had wanted to talk to Laurelyn, or even Anamaria, seeing as how both women knew much more about men than I did. The Commodore, Gillette, and Mary walked closer to the shore, and I turned around to meet the eyes of Naneth; she was looking at me warmly, seemingly able to read my thoughts.

"Jack's lover and Anamaria would be able to tell you about men, but not of husbands. Taeryn can help you there, or Maurya, or even myself - though it do be many long years since I did have a husband of my own. But mostly, it do be up to you to figure out this man of yours," she said. I smiled, Naneth's words soothing me a bit, and I reached for Will's hand.

"We want to thank you for everything you've done for us, Naneth," I said. She waved her hand. "Jack did tell me upon bringing you here that there was something different about you, different from Miss Mary-belle, different even from his Laurelyn though she do be formidable in her own right. You are like our Anamaria: Port Royal is not yours, nor is our island, nor any other land. You maybe do not know it, but you belong only to young stag beside you, and he to you. As long as you remember that then nothing can harm you."

What Naneth said hardly made any sense to me, but I smiled at the old woman anyway. Her words, as hard to puzzle out as they were, comforted me. She frowned. "Old Naneth did nothing for you that you could not have done for yourself. You would have found each other eventually, no matter what this fool did to shove you away -" She jerked her head at Will, and I laughed at the look of irritation on his face. "The magic of our beautiful island did speed things along, but that is all." It was her way of saying goodbye, it seemed, because she kissed Will on the forehead - he had to bend nearly double for her to reach him, but she kissed him nonetheless - and then bade me farewell by kissing both my cheeks and pressing her thumb to the tattoo on my shoulder.

"You are welcome here always, Princess," Maurya said with a surprising gentleness as she took Naneth by the arm and led her away up the soft white sand. Taeryn and her husband stood before us then. "All those married on this island become family by custom," Taeryn said. "Our home is always open to you, should you be in need of it, my sister." She handed me a frock of deep brown, seemingly plain and unadorned but upon closer inspection I could see the embroidery. It was the garb of all the married island women. Taeryn took my hand and placed over her rounded belly, where I could feel the baby kick. My heart raced and I had to take a deep breath - the ways of the island women were so strange. Could they possibly tell if a woman was pregnant the day after she is first with her husband? Taeryn's eyes twinkled at the fear she must have read on my face.

"A child is a gift, no matter when it is begotten," she said mysteriously. I swayed on my feet and Will's hand was there to steady me in an instant. Taeryn tilted her head to the side. "Relax, Princess. How do your people put it? The, er, stork hasn't gifted you yet." I had never heard Taeryn's husband speak before, and the fact that his first words were of something as inappropriate as whether or not I was pregnant floored me. Will looked disappointed, but I felt a large about of relief. "Thank you," I said softly, as Will led me away to where the Commodore, Gillette, and Mary were waiting.

We made our way to the tiny vessel in a silence that was suddenly and unceremoniously broken by Gillette. "Laurelyn told me to bid you goodbye. She says she hopes to see you soon at Tortuga, but she doubts that you'll need to visit there anymore, Turner," he said. I tripped on the front of my skirt, its strings of shells clinking together loudly to my ears. "I beg your pardon!" I gasped, feeling my face heat for the millionth time that morning. That Laurelyn! The nerve of her! To mention such things, and to Gillette of all people. Mary looked torn between amused and disapproving, with a hearty helping of embarrassed as well. The Commodore, oddly enough, was smiling almost roguishly. "I am not about to ask how you got along last night, Miss Swann, and I shall tell your father that I believe in your utmost propriety. But Mr. Sparrow did request that I tell you - before he went capering off into the night like the bandit he is - that he hopes dear William did not disappoint. Possibly he thought that Bootstrap, lady-killer that Jack assures me he was - would have equally as dashing a son."

"How dare you!" I shrieked, while Will's face twitched in amusement although he tried to keep in set in lines of rage. "It isn't proper! It isn't seemly! Commodore!"

"Really, James, we've all been through such a trying ordeal. You mustn't bait Miss Swann so," Mary implored. "I am quite sure that honor was maintained."

"Do spare me, Miss Porter. We are so far from Port Royal that honor is about as important as a grain of sand on a beach. Miss Swann, whatever transpired last night between you and Mr. Turner is of little consequence to me. Your father did, incidentally, want me to make sure your good name would still be upheld. I shall tell him that Miss Porter never left your side and we'll leave it at that, shall we?"

I hadn't quite given a thought to how much talk would surround a woman who had fled Port Royal in the company of Jack Sparrow and his band of rogues. Possibly the fact that Mary - whose name was as spotless as the saint after whom she was named - had come with me was all that had saved the shreds of my reputation. "Thank you, Commodore," I said stiffly, although relaxing a bit under the warm look he gave me. Perhaps even the esteemed Commodore James Norrington could be human at times.

"Besides," he said offhandedly, "nothing you do should surprise anyone anymore, Miss Swann. Quite frankly, you are the worst 'lady' Port Royal has ever seen."

Leaving the island was strange and quiet. Mary had opted to stay below and the boat was small enough to be manned easily by three people, so with a kiss on my cheek Will had decided to help sail us back to Port Royal. I stood with the sea on my face, watching Naneth's island shrink before my eyes as a pod of dolphins sped us along home.


	35. What People Say

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I'm sort of in a rush to end this story before 11th grade starts and slaughters the hell out of me…and I'm really praying that inspiration doesn't fail me now. Lucky for all ya'll that I watched Pirates of the Caribbean today, and since I went on the RIDE in California, I'm re-enthused about PotC. Anyway, here comes a milestone: Chapter 35. We're back at Port Royal and awaiting the clashing between the Swann sisters, huzzah!

1.

The journey back to Port Royal was a quick one, peaceful and uneventful. My sea legs, it seemed, would never leave me, as I felt quite at home on the tiny boat that boasted the name _Titan_. Seeing as how Will and Jack had sailed the giant _Interceptor_ together, it was a mystery to me why all three of the men escorting Mary and myself back to Port Royal were needed to sail the _Titan_. Then again I hardly understand the ways of men and suspect I never shall know the reasoning behind the madness.

We spent a large part of the night on the deck of the ship, staring up at the stars and listening to the slap of the ocean on the hull of the boat. Land may be beautiful, but there is never a sight quite like the open sea - and the open sky. When the moon is out, it sends shards of light across the ocean on the waves, like the very echoes of stars; they are just as unreachable as their counterparts in the sky.

The dolphins that had first joined us had gone off sometime in the middle of the day, but the speed that they graced us with was not diminished in the slightest. With them gone I felt an odd sense of loss and loneliness, and the ocean became a strange sort of limbo. Part of it was heavenly - it was wonderful to feel the sting of saltwater on my face again. Another part of me felt more than usual the unsteadiness beneath my feet as the sea rocked us. It was troublesome, because never before had I been so aware of the movement. Will was here and I was happy, but things seemed different to me now. I told myself that it would just take some getting used to, to make the transition from being his best friend to his fiancé to finally his wife - with everything that being a wife entailed.

Thankfully, Will did not pursue his natural rights as my husband although that might have been because there was no place for him to do so. Mary and I slept in the cabins alone - the Commodore insisted on Mary sleeping separate from the men, and since she was frightened to sleep without the company of a woman, I had to stay with her. It wasn't that she didn't trust the Commodore, First Mate Gillette, or Will, but it wasn't proper for an unmarried woman to sleep alone. I believed this to be true. My sister and I, when we weren't of mind to murder each other, had always shared a room. There was less of that of late because it seemed Elizabeth and I were always about to kill each other.

On the third day of sailing as I headed up to the deck to do nothing but breathe fresh air - I still wasn't a very good sailor but the Commodore had been so kind as to not make me swab the deck - I saw a tiny speck on the horizon that Gillette kindly informed me was Port Royal. "We'll be there by this evening, if not earlier, Miss Swann," he said with a respectful nod of his head. I stared at him, taken aback. He and the Commodore hadn't been properly respectful since they had reached the island. They were always ready with one quip or the other, which Gillette had assured me was due to the lack of a _real_ crew, or, he added with a teasing grin, a _real_ mission. He confided to me that Commodore Norrington was hardly the stiff-necked prude that he pretended to be, to which I scoffed at. But it seemed that indeed without a crew and having completed his mission, the Commodore had become something almost resembling human.

Mary was quite taken with him.

She never said anything, of course, but it took her at least two hours after she awoke to fix her hair properly and make sure every stitch of her borrowed dress was in place before chancing a stroll up to the deck. She still turned a bit green whenever she did, but it actually worked to her advantage. Whenever she looked less than healthy, the Commodore glued himself to her side the way a nanny might. I found it rather disturbing, but Mary seemed to enjoy it.

Gillette and Will were left to tend to the sailing whenever the Commodore was preoccupied, so I resumed my stay in the crows' nest, still my favorite place on any sailing vessel. This morning, however, the Commodore called me down.

"We shall be at Port Royal within a few hours' time, Miss Swann," he began. Both the Commodore and Gillette didn't seem to find an island wedding quite satisfactory, and still insisted that until I was married on Port Royal, I would be Miss Swann. "As lovely as you look in whatever animal you are wearing, I think you have shocked the general public of Port Royal one too many time. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of bringing you a proper dress. I'm sure Miss Porter will help you get dressed but I do suggest that you wait until we are closer to the Port."

"Why's that?" I asked bluntly.

"To put it delicately, Miss Swann, I do not know what state the dress would be in when we reach Port Royal, if you put it on too early," he said snobbishly, adjusting our course. Somewhere along the way he and Gillette both had swapped their powdered white wigs for common sailor's hats, and they both looked generations younger. It surprised me to learn that underneath his ridiculous wig, the Commodore had chestnut brown hair a few shades lighter than Will. And Gillette's hair was nearly as vibrant at Mary's!

"Of course, Commodore," I said, fumbling a curtsy in the narrow island dress. "I take it upon myself to remind you to put on your wig before we reach the Port, else you want everyone to know what fine brown locks you have to your credit, sir." Commodore Norrington smiled vaguely. "Of course, Miss Swann."

I stayed on deck for hours, watching the tiny speck that was Port Royal grow. It grew in relation to the tenseness I was feeling in my stomach - I didn't know how my father would respond once I got back, but I was sure it wouldn't be good. And of course we must hurry up the wedding, for propriety's sake. It would look suspicious if the proper amount of time was forsaken in planning my wedding - then the townspeople would certainly know that something was amiss, and my name would be smudged. But I still did not know whether or not I was with child, and if we waited too long I would be showing signs of pregnancy too early in my marriage.

"Oh, bother," I said anxiously under my breath. How would I keep the events that had come to pass from my father? It was usually very easy to keep things from him, the poor dear wasn't very bright. This, however, all seemed unavoidable. He would certainly find out that I had acted like less of a lady and more of a pirate since leaving. If he ever found out just how much I was like my mother, it might just ruin him.

"What's wrong, my love?" Will asked, standing next to me. I sighed. "Oh, Will, we've really made a mess of things." I put my face in my hands and he drew me closer. "What are you talking about, little wife?" he asked. I shrugged him off angrily. "Oh _don't_ call me that, William! I would have thought you of all people would have at least a little respect for your _wife!_" I snapped. He looked shocked, and then angry. I readied myself for a fight.

"What should I call you then, if you aren't my wife?" he snapped. "How about my name, Will! None of this '_wife_' this, '_wife' _that rubbish. I wont have it, Turner! I'm still a person even though I'm married to _you!_"

The Commodore and Gillette were watching with interest. I was anxious and frightened and ready to rage. "Like I'm some sort of pet, hmm. I was worried about this, now what will we do?" I muttered under my breath, sending Will seething. I couldn't believe the nerve of him! From being my best friend, my equal, he diminishes to calling me 'wife' like I'm some sort of doll! Oh ho, I think not, William Harold Turner!

"Perhaps you should go below, Miss Swann. Send Mary up here so you and Mr. Turner may have your privacy," Commodore Norrington suggested. "Very good, Commodore," I said stiffly, storming off to the cabins. "Mary, the Commodore wants you," I snapped. She leapt off the bunk she was sitting on and fluttered about fixing the bows on her dress and every perfect strand of red hair.

"Good Heavens, woman, just go!" I said tiredly, and she cast a disgruntled look at me before hurrying up the ladder to the deck.

"Christina, what's the matter with you?" Will asked. I fought down the urge to shriek with anger and vexation. Marriage, it seemed, did not suit Will and I very well, a thought which both terrified me and nearly broke my heart in two.

"We're hardly married at all and you're acting like you can't bear the sight of me."

"Hardly married, Will? What the bleeding hell d'you mean by that?" I demanded. He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "Well, it was an island wedding, so I suppose it barely counts -"

"_Barely counts?_" I was shrieking now. "So you just have your way with me like I'm some Tortuga tramp after a marriage that _barely counts_ for anything? Do you know the amount of trust that I gave to you - I broke the first rule that I was ever taught, ever! I'm probably damned to Hell, and if I'm with child by you, Will, whatever reputation I had is gone! The child will be a bastard and its _father_ acknowledges our only marriage as something that _barely counts!_ Oh, God!" I sat down on a bed, shaking. Far too much had changed since I left Port Royal, and all of it hit me at the same inopportune moment. I wished severely that Jack was here.

"Christina, that isn't what I meant!" Will finally sounded more like himself, but it didn't register with me. I pressed a hand to my heart and tried to breath slowly.

"Do explain yourself then, Will, before I lose my head completely."

"You've already done that," he muttered under his breath, coming to sit next to me but thankfully refraining from touching me. I might erupt into spiky shards if he tried to. "Of course the marriage counts, my love, you should know by now that I speak out of my arse half that time," he said bluntly, finally sounded like the blacksmith I had known and loved for eight years.

"Oh, thank God, Will, you're finally sounding like yourself again." I slumped over and leaned on him tiredly, wanting to forget everything that had happened between us. I was certain that things would be find once we returned to Port Royal and had an official marriage. Once it was all written down on paper and witnessed by the entire bloody town, I'd feel safe. I declined to think of what it would be like to see Elizabeth again, or how many things there would be to worry about once we got back to the Port. There were too many things to worry about. The huge pile of orders Will would have to get through before we could get married, where we would live, if Will would accept a house from my father as part of a dowry, or if he would be a numbskull and insist on paying for our own house himself. I was even less eager to think about where my place would be in this glorious marriage. Certainly we wouldn't have any servants or cooks, and so that would be something I would have to learn to do. I was quite sure Will wouldn't accept servants from my father, but perhaps the old cook from the mansion could teach me a thing or two so that Will and I didn't starve.

"Oh, Will, we've got so much to do! We must get married at Port Royal right away; oh, how people will talk, meddlesome bothers that they are, the lot of them! I hate them, I truly do!" I said, wringing my hands nervously. Will kissed my hair and took my hand, our rings glinting cheerfully up at us. "Shh, don't worry about it, love. When have you ever cared for what people say?"

"Oh, _how_ could you understand! It isn't myself I'm worried about, I know they think I'm a pirate or worse! It's my father - he couldn't stand it if I ended up like my mother. She broke his heart and there were rumors around her that she was - well…"

"What, Christina?"

"Well, that she was a - you know, a _loose _woman."

"You aren't a loose woman, Christina!" Will sounded stern. I stuck out my chin and glared up at him. "Don't you go bullying me, Mr. Turner, it wont work! Of course I'm not. You _know_ I'm not, so do not even try to look menacing!" Will looked thoughtful.

"Your father loves you very much, Christina -"

"Yes, as much as a man can love a daughter who isn't Elizabeth," I snorted. Will rolled his eyes and continued.

"I'm sure he will just be glad to have you home. We will get married with as much speed is necessary but if you tell me that you care for what people will say, then you are not the woman I fell in love with."

I opened my mouth angrily, but Will glared hard at me. I stared past him as I thought about what he said. I had always prided myself on not caring what other people thought of me, but perhaps I really had. I had always cared that people thought Elizabeth was the prettier one, if I hadn't cared then I would never have been so jealous of her. Caring about that, however, never got in my way when I wanted to do something. I'd wanted to learn how to swordfight, and I'd gone out and done that. To hell with whatever consequences I might face if anyone found out I'd been hopping around, advancing, retreating, lunging and parrying in a shift with the blacksmith's apprentice.

I had left Port Royal to try to break some of the tameness that Will had placed on me, and instead I was becoming more domesticated than I had been since leaving! Had I lost my head completely because some man had made love to me before the papers were signed and the ink was dry? Indeed, the ink hadn't even been written yet, as it were. The quill hadn't even been made! But unless I went about boasting my island wedding, nobody would know. And if they would talk, then let them talk!

I raised my hand to the blue tattoo on my shoulder. Barely three days from that precious island and I had all but failed Naneth and Maurya and Taeryn already. Where was the strong raven-girl they had allowed to join their way of life, to marry by their customs? She certainly wasn't this thin-blooded idiot worrying about having bastard children and what the bloody townspeople would say. How ashamed my mother would be of me! My mother, who followed her heart right out of Port Royal, crushing hearts around her on her way out, too brave, too proud, and too real to stay where she was in chains. I would not be her; I would not, I was sure of it, abandon my family like she did. But I would not lay down and be bullied by the wagging tongues of people I did not know nor did I care about.

"What a fool I've been, Will," I said, turning to him and kissing him hard on the lips. He was so taken aback that we fell onto the bunk with me atop, but for once I was not awkward or embarrassed or timid. I kissed Will with a passion that I hadn't known I could possess.

Moments later, when we broke apart, Will spoke. "You are a confusing woman, Christina, but whatever led you to do _that_," he indicated how I was breathless with my lips inches from his, "I certainly hope it doesn't leave you anytime soon."

"Oh, shut up, Will."

1.

Elizabeth turned and ran back to the carriage. She must tell her father that Christina was coming home! What a celebration it would be. Governor Swann was getting to old to have to face his daughter getting kidnapped by or running off with pirates. His daughters, mercilessly like their mother as they were, seemed intent on breaking his heart or making it rebel against his body and kill him.

"Father!" she cried, running into the mansion and ignoring how her hair came undone from the neat arrangement of curls it was in. She pulled her hat off anxiously and swore under her breath when its delicate bow tangled into a knot under her chin. With a yank, the silk ribbon tore, but Elizabeth was beyond herself now. Christina was home! Finally, she apologize and have her sister back! Finally, those idiot rich families would stop talking about her like she was that hussy, Ariel. Finally, the townspeople would stop looking at her as if they'd like to throw mud at her when she walked by. And finally, best of all, Jerome would stop looking at her with his stupid rogue twinkle in his eyes. Oh, how she hated him!

"Father, oh do hurry! Christina's back, she's here! They're finally back! We must hurry down to the docks!" Elizabeth paced back and forth in the atrium of the mansion wishing the old man would hurry his step a bit. Christina was his eldest daughter after all, and she'd been gone for months.

"I'm coming, my girl, I'm coming." He ambled down the stairs and Elizabeth was struck with how old he looked. She suddenly wanted to rage against Christina for the stress she'd caused their dear old father by running off. She wanted to rage, too, at the pirates who had kidnapped her earlier in the year, for that too had surely taken a toll on Governor Swann. "Do, hurry, Papa, we must be there to meet her!"

Governor Swann looked up at the girlhood endearment that Elizabeth had uttered, seemingly unaware of it. "Alright, love, I'm here. I daresay the carriage is waiting?" He suddenly felt a good deal happier. His eldest daughter was back, and from the looks of it his youngest was set on making amends. It had taken ten years, but perhaps his two best girls were on the way to become something like friends again. He certainly hoped so; it was ever so tiring to hear them harping at each other every day for ten years. Some peace and quiet in the house would do him some good.

"Now you listen to me, Elizabeth. Christina may not be happy to see you, and knowing her she's been through all sorts of adventures." Governor Swann suppressed a shudder to think of all the adventures his dark haired daughter was likely to get into. Oh, how people would talk! Luckily no one from England kept to check on Port Royal anymore. If they were to know how Governor Swann couldn't keep his own two daughters in check, the post would surely be taken from him. Then again, they did know of his superb job quelling the pirate threat earlier in the year. He had been calm in the face of danger, even though the life of his youngest was at stake. That certainly had earned him some points in England. He was really set for the rest of his life, then.

Elizabeth, instead of looking hurt like he suspected she might, was looking stonily reserved. "I know, Papa. I intend to apologize, even though I know it's not likely she will accept my apology. Oh, Father, I am so very sorry for what I did! I realized now that I don't even love Will, really. I thought I did, but he was telling the truth when he told me he didn't love me… and I tried to take him from her anyway."

"Oh, you are so young, Elizabeth. In time, all these hurts will be forgotten. In time, all hurts are," the Governor said sadly, thinking of his Belynda once again. With Christina gone, he could hardly remember what Belynda St. Paul's face had looked like. Sometimes he could convince himself that the blonde-haired, powdered woman in the portrait actually was Belynda. Sometimes he could convince himself that she hadn't run away, that she'd died in childbirth with _his_ daughters, Elizabeth and Christina. He could never really convince himself that she loved him, though, and that is what stung the deepest.

Elizabeth seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Are we going to tell Christina about Mother, Papa?" she asked, tempering the unpleasant topic with the sweetness of calling him 'Papa' again. Governor Swann sighed. "Oh, I suppose we must. She does have a right to know, after all. And since you told her that the woman in the portrait isn't your mother as she naturally was, I'm afraid Christina's been more fascinated than ever with Belynda. I wont be surprised if she set off to find her."

Elizabeth frowned, disgruntled. Why anyone would want to go looking for a hussy like Belynda St. Paul was beyond her. The carriage jolted unpleasantly, and Elizabeth hit her elbow against the door. She rubbed it hard, and chewed her lip thoughtfully. She supposed she should make some allowances where her mother was concerned, but she didn't feel inclined to. Lost love or not, Belynda should not have run off on her family, no matter how lukewarm she felt towards her husband. She had two daughters to take care of! And now with her mother gone and her father - her _real _father - never having been in her life, Elizabeth was sorely confused. She decided to forget about them both, not think about them until answers presented themselves. And she wasn't about to go hunting for people who didn't care enough to stay around, or at least come back to give her some answers. No, that was for Christina. Elizabeth Swann had a father, and he was sitting across from her in this damnably bumpy carriage. No matter who that silly hussy had been with before her marriage to the Governor.

The carriage stopped abruptly and the driver got out to pull down the steps and open the door. He helped Governor Swann out of the carriage first and then offered Elizabeth a hand down. In the same moment, the Commodore was helping Christina up onto the dock. The tiny boat that he'd taken out sailing to find her, the _Titan, _was anchored a few paces away, and a tiny row boat had had to take them closer into the harbor,After months of being apart, the Swann sisters' eyes, dark brown to light, met.

A/N: Damn it. This story keeps getting longer and longer. I want it to end already! I want to start something new! R/R please.


	36. The Cult of Domesticity

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.

Christina wouldn't notice anything different about herself, but Port Royal certainly did. Everyone in Port Royal did, even the people who had been with her on her adventure way from the Port. Word traveled quickly amongst the town people, and soon everyone from the sailors to the bakers knew that Governor Swann's eldest daughter was finally back among civilized people. There were whispers everywhere, some of them asking about Jack Sparrow and why the Commodore hadn't brought him back shackled and gagged, but most were about Christina. This struck Elizabeth as odd, but with a quick look at the Commodore, she could tell he was relieved.

Christina looked different, but it was hard to say exactly how. She looked stronger, if that was possibly. Elizabeth had always thought that Christina was the more solid of the two of them; indeed, she definitely was wider and stockier than her sister. This seemed to be a different kind of strength, however. Christina was the picture of a perfect lady walking along the deck to meet the Governor and her sister. The dress that the Commodore had brought with him was one of Mrs. Dawson's finest. It was made of dark blue satin, the shoulders bare but covered by a black satin shawl and the sleeves long and tight down to her wrists, where there was a fair fountain of lace spilling over her fingertips. There was also lace embroidered down the front of the dress from the chest to the full skirt, not a pure white virginal lace but a creamy lace that seemed, on the dark Swann girl, almost seductive. Elizabeth squinted at her sister, trying to make out just what it was that was so captivating about Christina now that she had returned. Elizabeth finally decided that it was merely because she hadn't seen her sister in so long that had her so perplexed. Certainly she couldn't have changed that much. She couldn't possibly seem so pretty. Perhaps she had always been good-looking, shiny like a new Arabian mare and as proud as a peacock. For the first time, Elizabeth felt the slightest bit threatened by her sister.

In truth, very little about Christina Swann had changed physically. Her skin had gotten darker from work out in the sun, but it was hardly noticeable in the yards of fabric that she wore. Her hair, usually so wild and tangled out of the style that Mary put it in was pulled back into a severe braid and woven like a coronet into place. It was the way the island women did their hair, although they usually left the braid down where it could hand past their knees, but Christina did not want to return to Port Royal looking like a ruffian. Oh, she knew people would talk and she hardly cared anymore but she didn't want to give them anymore to talk about than they had already.

Will stepped out of the boat and stood next to his wife - but only the five people returning to Port Royal knew her status as such. He offered her his arm and she put an ungloved hand in the crook, letting it rest their lightly and summoning up all the grace that her mother had practiced and detested. Her feet hurt terribly in their tiny pinching shoes but she tried her best to ignore it. The townspeople noticed, of course, they would notice everything, but Christina pulled out a fan and waved it delicately in front of her face. The people of Port Royal would think that she was still getting used to her land legs. Only seasoned sailors could see that it was a hoax, and that Christina was quite comfortable on land as she was on the water. The sailors, however, cared very little for whatever gossip was going to surround the little bint of a Governor's daughter. Gillette stood behind Mary and the Commodore, but he knew that his role in this adventure was over. He went to join the sailors, who were among the first to leave for a pub and a cheerful barmaid instead of all this stoic, familial tension that seemed to be the mood.

Elizabeth watched as her sister's mouth twisted in a grimace as she glared around at the people who had come to welcome her back home. She knew that Christina hated to pretend to be a lady, but for once instead of being as hardheaded and stubborn as a mule she was playing the role she was meant to play. Whether or not it would succeed in making them believe that she was reformed from her rebellion would remain to be seen. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, it would only perplex them for a while before they figured out the joke was on them. From the look of disgust and discomfort on Christina's face, Elizabeth knew that her sister could not have changed all that much.

Why the elaborate act, then? Elizabeth wondered, watching as the Commodore led the way with the red haired maid on his arm, nearly as elaborately dressed as Christina herself. Mary's dress was a deep cream color with a blood red panel of embroidered fabric from the chest to the waist. It was, in Elizabeth's opinion, a more fantastic dress than the one Christina was wearing, and looked quite amazing on the modest Mary. Mary Porter looked pale with nerves as the Commodore escorted her down the dock, her face flushing a becoming red when she realized that people were staring at her just as avidly as they were staring as Miss Swann. The Commodore, on the contrary, looked quite nonchalant as he glared at anyone who dared look too inquisitively at Mary. Elizabeth felt her heart catch and, also for the first time in her life, felt regret at not having able to get to know Commodore Norrington better. He looked like a lion, or perhaps a wolf, the way he stalked down the dock, his shiny black boots clacking loudly against the swaying, faded wood.

"Father," Elizabeth whispered, pressing her hand into his arm where it rested, "does she looked…different…to you?"

Governor Swann smiled widely, quite proud of his daughter without the faintest idea as to why. "She looks radiant," he answered. He decided to ignore now Christina looked as if she'd grown up over the months she had been away. First of all because it was painful to think of how he had missed seeing the girl who was so much like her mother grow up. Second of all because seeing Christina like his reminded him of Belynda, of how Belynda would have been had she been given all of her freedom instead of forced into marriage with him. And lastly because the difference in Christina was very evident, no matter how she tried to hide it - or perhaps because she tried to hide it. The eldest Swann daughter was known for her openness and her difficulty at mastering a convincing 'court face,' as it was known to the people in the inner circles of Port Royal's aristocracy. If the girl was trying to hide something, surely everyone could see it. And they would talk.

"Father," Christina said, letting go of Will's arm and running the last few steps to the Governor. "Oh, I've missed you, Father!" she said, and Governor Swann breathed a sigh of relief when his daughter threw herself into his arms. It was a break from her façade, and that set his mind at ease. Perhaps if she acted like she normally did, people who suspect less. As it was, there was a whispering gathering into a roar, but at least some of the people seemed to be going about their business.

"Christina, I do not know what you've been up to but please listen to me - you've got to act naturally. Do not pretend to be a proper lady, people will see through it in an instant," the Governor whispered anxiously, pretending to kiss his daughter on the cheek. Christina broke away from him, a terribly hurt look in her eyes.

"What I've been up to, Father? Is that the first thing you have to say to me?" Her eyes hardened and she raised her chin, the very image of her mother in that moment so much so that it took Governor Swann's breath away. Elizabeth took a step forward and placed a hand on her father's arm, and stretched another - tremulously - out to her sister.

"Please, Christina, I'm sure he didn't mean it that way. It's just, well, there has been a lot of talk. Father's position is precarious, seeing has how new of you running off with a pirate had spread - it reminds people very much of Mother -"

"Oh, bother his _position!_ I should have known the two of you would have acted like this. Perhaps I should have stayed away, then! You obviously haven't missed me at all! All you're worried about is his _position -"_

"Not my position, sweeting," Governor Swann interrupted hastily, beseeching her to lower her voice, which was getting shriller by the moment. Will slid his hand into Christina's and squeezed it gently, murmuring something soft into her ear that seemed to calm her down. Governor Swann would remember to thank the boy for that - right after he clobbered him for causing Christina to run away in the first place.

"We are worried about your good name, darling. You must know how odd it has looked with you running off to that Captain Sparrow -"

"Well, he was worried about your good name, Christina. I wasn't," Elizabeth broke in. She didn't sound nasty, only earnest and honest. Christina's eyes narrowed all the same. "Good to see that nothing's changed with you, Elizabeth," she snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height, which was at least three inches taller than her sister.

"I was going to say that I was only worried for your safety - and I wanted to apologize to you for the way I behaved -"

"Oh, bollocks."

"Governor Swann, Miss Swann and Miss Swann if I may be so bold, this isn't the time or the place for you to be having his discussion," Commodore Norrington broke in surreptitiously. "Remember, Christina, the point was to stun them with your upstanding propriety, not have a family row in the center of town!"

"Yes, we mustn't ruin my good name, eh? Oh shove off, the lot of you!" Christina looked near tears now, and Elizabeth felt that this wasn't going at all the way she'd intended it too. All the people had seen was her say something to her sister, and now Christina was close to crying. Angry muttering broke out mostly among the townspeople, who had generally admired Elizabeth but genuinely liked Christina.

"Please, Christina, you must listen to me! I don't love Will, and I know that he never truly loved me! And I am sorry for what I did, I promise. And I promise I will make it up to you -"

"And why should I believe you, Elizabeth! All my life you've been the favorite, the angel, ever since Mum left. It was in your _nature_ to try to take the one good thing that I had, but I don't feel threatened by you anymore and I wont. Will loves me, Elizabeth, and I love him. And we're going to be married! I will _not_ let you make me feel like I'm less than you for that!"

"And you _shouldn't_. I'm so sorry, Christina, please forgive me. I can't offer you any proof that I've changed except from this moment on. I will be a sister to you, Christina, if you let me."

1.

If Jack had taken me to any other island, perhaps I would not have believed my sister when she said those words to me. I hardly believed her when she said them, but for looking in her eyes. I let go of Will's hand gently and pressed the tattoo on my shoulder, feeling as though it would burn through my fingertips. I thought of Naneth and Maurya, of Taeryn and Anamaria. Anamaria had done more than betray her sister by running off to join Jack Sparrow's crew, she had betrayed her island. Naneth, who was practically the embodiment of the island spirit herself, had forgiven Anamaria for that. Taeryn had never seen a reason to feel angry with Anamaria in the first place. And Maurya, although she wanted Anamaria to come home, had not forbidden her from leaving.

I thought of Will, and how I had come to forgive him relatively quickly. Of course, my relationship with Will was based on eight years of friendship and loyalty instead of ten years of jealousy and competition, so that might play a role in how I had forgiven him in comparison to how difficult it was proving to forgive Elizabeth. But Elizabeth was my sister, and looking at her I knew that I would once again be doing the island folk a disgrace if I chose to hate her forever.

Elizabeth met my eyes and raised her chin, a look of determination so strongly etched on her face that I think, looking back, it was that that made me nod my head and stiffly kiss her on both cheeks, the way the island folk do. She reminded me of my mother in that moment, even though I could hardly remember my mother. Will would tease me weeks later in our bedroom of our very own house, after we were sated and I was too exhausted to yell at him for it, that in that moment Elizabeth reminded him most strongly then of me.

My father and the Commodore let out audible sighs of relief as we headed to the carriage, and the air seemed like it was teeming with wagging tongues being held at bay until the carriage doors closed and the hoof beats were far off into the distance. The carriage, which was built to hold six people but could really only comfortable seat four, was now full with Will, the Commodore, and my father on one side. Mary, Elizabeth, and myself sat uncomfortably close on the other bench, my sister and I ramrod straight and avoiding each other's eyes.

"That went…well," the Commodore said. I snorted and rapped my fan against my palm, eager to be out of this carriage and anywhere away from here.

"Christina, love, you do know that I was only concerned for your best interests. You were born into a position that is constantly under scrutiny. Your every move is calculated and my dear, you have made some rather…boisterous…moves. You need to be careful or people will talk -"

"Let them talk, then, Father! What do I care what people say? I'm to be married, it isn't as if I need a spotless reputation to _snare_ a suitor! And you've got enough money to make people say whatever you want them to say!"

"But my dear, it has to do with how people treat you -"

"Let them treat me however they see fit. I care very little for these faceless people you seem so very frightened of!"

"Now see here, young lady, you wont speak to me that way. I am your father and you are not to old that I can't take a strap to you!" my father said angrily.

"I am quite too old for you to take a strap to me, father. I'm nearly twenty-one and I am married -"

Commodore Norrington and Will both inhaled sharply. If they hadn't done that, I'm sure it would have gone straight over my father's head that I said I was married and not 'to be married.' "What did you say, Christina?"

I swallowed hard and then raised my chin, pulling my shawl aside to show him the tattoo on my shoulder. My father's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "What the devil have you done to yourself, Christina? What is that, a tattoo! No daughter of mine will have a tattoo!"

"Then I suppose I am no daughter of yours, Father," I said dryly, noticing with puzzlement how taken aback my father seemed from that comment. He smoothed his features over quickly, however. "I demand that you be rid of it!"

"I wont. Father, Jack took me to an island. The island women there are nothing like the women here. They're wonderful and free and I felt for the first time that people wouldn't look down on me for saying whatever I please and not worrying how it might shock some pruny old lady so that she swoons! And _this,_" I said, indicating the tattoo that he was gracing with a look of revulsion, "they gave me because they made me one of them -"

"Have you lost your mind completely, Christina? Your mother and I made sure you were baptized when you were born, and you stride so willingly into this devilry, this heathendom!"

"They aren't heathens! Jack knows them -"

"I will make sure that criminal _hangs_ if it is the last thing I do! It's his fault you came back like this, he's done something to you!"

"He did _nothing_ to me, Father, except save me from making the greatest mistake of my life. Will and I were married by an island custom whether you like it or not. I know how it will shock people if they find out and endanger your precious reputation, so we will marry officially here. But you have no power over me now," I said, my mouth twisted in a grimace. "I'm a married woman now, and as my husband it is up to Will to do what he sees fit with me." I glared at Will harshly to let him know that if he ever dared to 'do what he sees fit with me' I'd first clobber him on the head and then be out the door in a flash.

My father's face grew red with anger but, to my surprise, Elizabeth reached out her pale hand and touched his arm gently. "It's terribly romantic, Father, and very impetuous but there's no harm done if nobody finds out. And do not blame Christina for this. It's really my fault she felt pushed into this."

"_You_ had nothing to do with it," I said angrily, but Elizabeth silenced me with a hard look and a manipulative smile that she turned on our Father. My jaw dropped - my sister was trying to save my skin and justify my island marriage to Will by taking the blame herself when she'd been miles away. I did not want to be in her debt, but it seemed to be too late. My father was deflating rapidly.

"You are so like your mother," he said, looking between Elizabeth and I so that it was difficult for us to tell just which one of us he was speaking to. The carriage gave an unceremonious bump, Mary moaned and leaned back in her seat with a trembling hand over her eyes, and the footman opened the door to let us all out. The mansion loomed up in front of me, and it seemed smaller and bleaker than when I had left it. I knew then that I would never call it 'home' again.

1.

The Commodore and Will stayed for dinner, which lasted well into dark, before leaving. The Commodore had asked Mary to sit and dine with us but she had blushingly refused, saying it was not her place and that she'd best get back to work. Commodore Norrington was pensive and quiet all throughout dinner, only telling my father why Richard Millar ("the butler's boy," according to my father) had not returned with us. When my father heard about how I had dueled for my freedom, he did not look either shocked or proud, merely nodded his head and said, "Yes, I suppose she would do that." It did seem to anger him, albeit vaguely, that "the butler's boy" had demanded to marry me but otherwise he seemed distracted and unable to stir himself to care very much. I pushed the food around on my plate, sad and dejected that it seemed nobody was very glad to have me home.

Elizabeth kept stealing glances from her seat across from me, but I didn't meet her eyes. I kissed Will goodnight at the door after he tilted my chin up with his fingertips and beseeched me to cheer up, that it was just a shock because no one had expected me home. I shrugged tiredly and then smiled at him purely because he was there and he, at least, loved me. Will is my family now, I reminded myself, and after that I don't need anyone else. It was discouraging, though, to think that my father was not happy to have me safe at home. Rather he was quite frustrated at the way I'd conducted myself, so far from the daughter he obviously wanted me to be.

Elizabeth had gone up to bed and my father was in his study, brooding, when I decided that I had had enough. I opened his door without knocking, to see him still in his wig smoking a sweet smelling pipe that put me back in mind to when Elizabeth and I were four and he would read us stories back in our home in England. It was in the den, in front of the fireplace before we went to bed. Not many fathers read to their daughters, by my father back then seemed especially devoted to us. He always seemed like he wanted us to know he was there as our father, the one he belonged to. When you're a four year old girl, nearly indistinguishable from your twin sister except for hair color and you have no suitors to compete with your sister over, your father is the one you want to marry. When we were four, our father had tried to be our hero, and he had largely succeeded. Things were different now.

"I remember you used to smoke that pipe when you read to Elizabeth and I, back in England. We were four. You never told stories, like Mother. But you read them, and since so few fathers did that, it was brilliant," I offered, sitting across from him and tugging at the lace at my wrists. I'd managed to slop soup on the edges of one sleeve, and judging by how my father's eyes twitched over my sleeves, he noticed too.

"You were my hero then, Papa. And when you told me all those months ago not to be a fool and run away from love, you were my hero again. Father, I'm _happy_ now, can't you see that? It does not matter how I got that way or if official documents accompanied me on the way to happiness…is it not enough for you that I'm happy?"

He looked at me briefly when I said the word "papa," and then looked back to his desk, smoking his pipe in silence. The smell was making me nauseas now, and a breathed in shortly through my mouth. "Fine," I said, my voice breaking. I never realized how dearly I wanted my father to love me the way he loved and doted on Elizabeth, but smelling that blasted pipe brought me back to when Elizabeth and I were just little girls, both of us pretty and dimpled with bows, freckles, and bitten fingernails.

"Just remember, _Governor_, that you're my father through your own fault, and no matter how I disappoint you or bring shame to the esteemed Swann name, you're still my _father._"

At last, my father decided to speak. "The truth is, poppet, that I'm not."

A/N: Two chapters in a day. Am I good or am I good. My friend Bei says this reads like a soap opera, which I find to be a faintly vulgar comment, but this is where the damn keyboard sent me and I just followed. I'm sorry if it does sound like a cheesy 2:00 soap (personally, I can't stand them) but I'm still learning here, be gentle. R/R please.


	37. Ties That Bind

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Evidently we're not supposed to respond to reviewers anymore, and this story has been removed from one too many times for my liking. So here's a simple thanks to my reviewers, I appreciate it so much!

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Elizabeth looked up, shocked, as Christina burst into her room and slammed the door behind her. She had hardly expected to be confronted by her sister so soon, but hardly anything was going as planned as it was. Elizabeth sighed from her place by the window, and reminded herself once again that she should stop expecting things to go as she wanted. Ever since the day Will had announced that he would take Christina as his wife instead of her, everything was going wrong. She had come to terms with the beginning of it, but any more surprises like that one and Elizabeth thought she would die far younger than her years promised.

It was easy to guess what it was that had Christina so upset. She had thought it would be left to her to break the truth about their parentage to Christina, and once again she hadn't expected her father to go through it so quickly, if at all. Elizabeth rubbed her temples tiredly, wishing a bit guiltily that Christina had stayed away just a while longer.

"I didn't know -"

"Rubbish! God, Elizabeth, it's not _true_, is it?" Christina demanded, her blue dress wrinkled and her hair finally coming out of its severe plaited coronet. She finally looked more like herself, and that put Elizabeth more at ease. A sister who was disheveled and overreacting was one that Elizabeth could handle, she was used to it. The strange woman that met Governor Swann and Elizabeth on the docks was something else entirely; the taciturn, upright, and reserved young woman who barely even flushed at the attention being paid to her was like a different species.

"Father told me shortly after you left. If things weren't so unstable, he probably would have never told us so I suppose this is your fault." Elizabeth's voice was light, she thought it clear that she was just jesting with her sister, but Christina's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Oh, of course. It's all my bloody fault again, Elizabeth, like always. I can't believe you. You haven't grown up a whit since I've been gone."

"I have grown up a great deal more than you know!" Elizabeth snapped, angry now. Mentally she chided herself - this was not how she had intended on repairing her relationship with her sister, after all. But, she thought, placating words hardly got through the thick skull of her twin, so maybe some unbridled emotion would get the point across better. "And if you ask me, it would do you some good to grow as well!"

"I have!" Christina roared back.

"Then for God's sake act like it!"

Both women glared viciously at each other, Christina's head tilted up just slightly to meet her sister's eyes, a fact which she resented. Elizabeth looked just as angry and determined not to back down, and to her surprise this seemed to register something with Christina. The latter's brow relaxed and she made her way cautiously into the room. Elizabeth noted how Christina had denied to ask permission to enter, but didn't flounce about as if she owned the place either. Then again, Elizabeth reminded herself, Christina had rarely flounced about the mansion that way. _No, that was more often than not how I got around_, Elizabeth sighed to herself. She stood up straighter and refused to feel bad for how she had acted. The past was passed, and there was no making excused for how she had behaved.

"Who is our real father, then?" Christina asked. Elizabeth shrugged wearily, walking away from the window and pulling the curtains closed, then walking as sedately as she could to light a candle held by a sconce on the wall.

"Father never found out who the man was, and Mother never saw fit to disclose it. She would have been mad to bring it up, anyway. I expect one does not speak of such things."

"What a terrible bedfellow that rift must have been," Christina remarked, and Elizabeth's eyes shot up to regard her sister.

"Quite," she said softly. She wanted to ask Christina all about her island marriage. Rather, she wanted to ask if it had been consummated; Elizabeth was bursting with a virgin's curiosity - or rather, the curiosity of an old maid, she thought morosely. Well into her prime and without a husband, in a few weeks time Elizabeth would be the topic of gossip among the matrons of Port Royal and everything about Christina's ordeal would probably be forgotten.

"I want terribly to know who my real father is," Christina said stoutly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the door. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "_Our_ real father," she pointed out, a cynical amusement dripping into her voice that Christina for once caught on to.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lizzy, we both know that you were more Father's daughter than I ever was. Take how he greeted me, for example. If it were you coming home from weeks at sea, he would have organized a festival!"

"Do stop calling me that, Christina, you know I loath that nickname."

"Oh, rubbish, don't be ridiculous -"

"Fine, then. I shall call you Tina from now on. I suppose you'll be Tina Turner to me from now on."

Christina grinned suddenly, and caught herself in the act. Elizabeth raised both eyebrows at the look of surprise, and then skepticism, on her sister's face. She seemed incredulous at the possibility that they would have a conversation that didn't involve death threats.

"How did you take it, Liz? When he told you?" Christina's shock, like many things, wore off quickly. It seemed that Elizabeth wasn't the only one who had grown up some. It had taken them long enough, too.

"I was surprised, of course. But what can one do? We never met our real father, and to me he doesn't exist. I suppose I'm less curious by nature than you are, Christina," Elizabeth said this almost fondly, and both girl's shrugged uneasily as the tight-fitting feeling of sisterhood started to descend. It would take a long time to get used to, but it was starting, at least. Elizabeth didn't quite feel comfortable, but she felt accomplished in her task. The rest, she supposed, would go on its own from here.

"Well, I want to know who he is -"

"Good luck with that, then. I don't. The man in his study, smoking the pipe that reminds me of the stories he used to read us - that's my father. I don't need any other. That is the man that took care of me since I was born, no matter who our _mother_ might have lain with first -"

"Oh, Elizabeth! Do not be so heartless! Don't you remember Mother at all? She used to tell us stories of her own design, stories about freedom and love. Did it ever occur to you that she was forced into marriage with Father when her heart belonged to someone else?"

"She left, Christina. Her love for her past was greater than her love for her daughters -"

"And you saw what Father forced her to be!" Christina would always stand by her adoration for the mother who had abandoned them, and Elizabeth could never truly see the sense in it. Her loyalty was to the father who had sheltered them and raised them, even though they were not his own.

"We could have just as easily ended up in an orphanage, disgraced as bastards -"

"Oh, grace. Bah! We would have been free. We couldn't have found Mother, she would have come for us if she heard. We would have been on the sea with her and the man she loved."

Elizabeth felt her anger piqued and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I know you must be angry with Father for how he greeted you this morning, and how he broke the news of our birth, but you must realize what a blessing he's been. He loves us, Christina, much more than Mother ever did; he never abandoned us -"

"But -"

"And we have been much more free than we would have been. The orphanage would have raised us to marry some peddler or another, and it would have hardly been our choice. If we refused, they would have put us out and we would have had to be governesses, barmaids, or worse. Father never forced either of us to marry -"

"Probably because he saw what it did to Mother!"

"Even so," Elizabeth said evenly, "it was good of him to keep us, and you know it. I love the memory of Mother just as dearly as you do, but I will not go on loving a woman who did not see fit to stand by her family. It was her duty -"

"And instead we were raised by a man who made us live in fear of what people would _say_ if we behaved improperly!" Christina broke in, annoyed with how much sense her sister was making. Elizabeth held up her pale hands in acquiescence, her lips twisting in a smile.

"You were never afraid of what people would say of you, Christina. And even if you were, it never changed how you behaved." Christina bit her lip pondering this, a far-away look in her eyes that boasted of places Elizabeth had never seen and probably never would. Christina straightened up with a new gleam in her eyes, and a new shine to her face. She had figured out another argument, no doubt. Elizabeth was surprised that she seemed to be enjoying her sister's presence very much, now that Will Turner was out of the way.

"But you, look at how you grew up. You were the perfect lady to the skin of your teeth, Elizabeth. Were you happy that way?" Elizabeth shrugged uncomfortably; this was a matter which she wasn't very sure about herself. She certainly wasn't miserable her entire life. She did enjoy all the parties and the men who tried so hard to impress her. But, she thought, looking at Christina, there had always been something missing. Whether or not it could have been remedied with a stable relationship with her sister, Elizabeth didn't know, but there was always something in the way that kept her from being completely and truly happy for long stretches of her life. Christina took Elizabeth's silence for an answer, one which she seemed to favor.

"Ah! You see, you weren't happy -"

"If you want me to admit that Father wronged us, I wont. He is my father and I will always love him dearly. I'm sorry if you don't, and I think it would be unfair to him but I will not try to change your mind. To answer your question: I have never been miserable as long as Father has cared for us."

"But were you _happy?"_

"Were you?"

Christina opened her mouth to answer, and closed it abruptly. She seemed to need time to think of an answer, biting her lip again and leaning back against the door.

"Only when I was with Will."

"Well, there you go, I never had a Will Turner," Elizabeth said, her hands in her lap as she sat on her bed, wringing her hands that were sadly bare and ringless. She chanced a look at Christina's hands and sure enough there was a glinting ring on her third finger. Elizabeth felt a pang of loneliness so deep inside her that she wished she was years younger. She felt that she wouldn't even mind now if her father arranged a marriage for her, so long as she could come to love the man. As much as she asserted that Governor Swann was her father, she felt a void. Her mother gone, the man who fathered her she had never met, and now her sister - so long estranged - was married and ready to be part of new family; to start one. Elizabeth felt very alone but she sat up straighter and pushed it away. She was luckier than most to have her sister back, distant though they might be, and a father who loved her as much as any man could love his daughter.

"I'm sorry, Lizzy," Christina said, perhaps catching onto the loneliness that Elizabeth felt and sympathizing with it. "Even when Will was at his worst - talking about how beautiful you were, and how deeply he loved you - he could still make me feel happier than anyone I knew. If I was a good sister I would have brought you with me, but I wanted to keep him to myself."

"Understandable," Elizabeth said, although not without bitterness. "Who knows where we'd be now if you took me along?" Christina touched her shoulder absently, and then twisted the ring on her finger.

"Forgive me when I say that I don't want to think about it," she said with a grin. Elizabeth took her sister's hand in her own, puzzled at the difference in how they looked. Her own hand was pale and thin, soft and white like a lily petal. Christina's was a burnished golden and callused like a pirate's; like an island woman's hand. Yet they had come from the same mother, the same father, within moments of each other.

"I am really very happy for you," Elizabeth said softly, leaning her head tentatively on Christina's shoulder like a little girl. Christina smiled softly, feeling closer to Elizabeth than she ever had and marveling at it. She thought briefly of Elizabeth kissing Will and felt hurt, but not for the reason she used to. She felt hurt and guilty for all the years that she and Elizabeth had spent hating each other, angry that the years of misunderstanding had led up to such a moment when the two of them wanted to break the other's heart, and shatter the other's spirit. She was sure of Will's love for her now and knew that it was as real as the tattoo Naneth had painted on her; she was just as sure that whatever Elizabeth had felt for Will had faded into friendliness only, if not outright neutrality.

"I know, Lizzy."

She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did.

1.

Elizabeth and I stayed up all night talking. She wanted to know of all the adventures that I had had since I left, her eyes glittering as she imagined everything I described. She was fascinated with Laurelyn, and made me tell her again and again how she and Jack were in love and yet not married. She admired how Laurelyn wouldn't leave her father on Tortuga to follow Jack (I imagine it struck a particular chord with her, one that I tried but couldn't fathom) and how she ran her own pub and dress shop.

She was also interested in my induction into the island and the people's way of life. I got up and ran out of the room to show her the dresses that they had given me - the dress of the island maidens, which Elizabeth found beautiful, if scandalous ("Their maidens where _this? _Why, how do they stay maidens, then?") - and the bridal gown ("Christina, it's practically transparent! Did Will see you in this?"). When I showed her the dress of the island matrons, I expected her to brush it off and continue marveling at the shells on the bridal gown, but she didn't.

"Not even Mrs. Dawson can do embroidery this fine. Oh, it's so lovely, Christina. A pity you can't wear it here," she said softly, running her hands over the soft fabric and then looking up at me with a question in her eyes.

"Try it on, if you like," I suggested, and she practically danced with glee. After all her well-thought out arguments of earlier, I was glad that I could finally like the older sister, even if I was only a minute older at that. Elizabeth leapt off the bed and pulled her frock off with more enthusiasm and less gentleness than I had ever seen before. She pulled the island dress on over her shift and looked into the mirror eagerly.

"Oh," she said disappointedly.

"What's wrong?"

"It's too big on me," she whined, pulling it tighter around the middle to no avail. I laughed at her lack of tact. "Probably because it's supposed to fit women who are with child," I said. She spun around to look at me, and I felt my face heat. This was one thing that I did not wish to talk to Elizabeth about, repaired bridges or not.

"Christina!" she said in a hushed voice. "Are you expecting a child?" At least she had the sense to whisper. She hurried back over to me and glanced at the door to make sure it was properly shut.

I shifted my shoulders uneasily, but it was only when she fell to her knees in front of me and took my hands again saying, "Please, tell me. I won't hold it against you at all, I promise. In fact, I'd be overjoyed for you, honestly. And I won't tell a soul - I'll help you plan a speedy wedding!" that I decided it would be alright to tell her.

"The truth is, Elizabeth, I don't know -"

"Well have you - that is, have you and Will - well, what I mean to say is -"

"We have," I said simply, laughing at the look of shock on her face. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were glittering, if I'm not mistaken, almost enviously. Not the reaction I was expecting, of course, and probably not one I was hoping for.

"Well," she said softly. "You _have_ grown up more than me!"

"Oh, don't be a ninny! Buck up. We'll find you a husband soon, I promise." Elizabeth looked doubtful, and for once I wanted to cheer her up not revel in her envy. Probably for the first time. "You're very pretty, for such an old lady. Well preserved for your age, I'd say. The boys'll be lined up around the island for you, no doubt."

"Oh, hush! You're older than me!"

"Only by a minute, Lizzy. And I'm married," I pointed out. She stuck her tongue out at me and clamored onto the bed after pulling the island dress off. She decided then to try on the maidens' dress instead, pulling her shift off after darting behind the screen bashfully. No matter how many times I told her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, and that the island women bathed in groups in the big lagoon, she was still snootily upholding English propriety and bashfulness. I shrugged and let her do as she pleased, getting out of my heavy dress and pulling on the matrons' dress. It was the most comfortable nightgown I'd ever worn.

Elizabeth clamored into her big bed and when I turned to leave, she grabbed my arm. "Stay, Christina. Tell me more about everything you've seen, please. The only places I've been with pirates - well, they're not as fondly remembered."

I stayed and we fell asleep at dawn, two little island sisters resting in a grand Port Royal mansion, tentative friends again after a decade.

1.

Things passed quickly after Elizabeth and I befriended each other again. The deed to the smithy made it Will's shop officially, and for two weeks I hardly saw him except when he came to call at dinner. The months he'd spent away from the shop added up to a lot of orders he had to catch up on, and so he was very busy.

I would have missed him, except I was busy myself. Elizabeth was true to her word and helping me every way she could to plan a discreetly speedy wedding. I repaid her by going everywhere with her so as to slow the tide of gossip that surrounded us. Obviously it was less interesting for people to talk about if Elizabeth and I were on good terms with each other, although a few of the rich young girls we knew still snapped open fans to hide behind, tittering away when we passed. Mrs. Dawson couldn't deal with their stupidity, and had even kicked a few of them out of her shop while I was searching for a wedding dress. Island clothing has spoiled me, and every dress I tried on was either too tight or too itchy for me to want as my wedding dress. Finally, Elizabeth had decided I should just have one commissioned.

"White satin," she said firmly, and I rolled my eyes. "Do remember that it is _my_ wedding you are helping to plan, Lizzy. Creamy satin, Mrs. Dawson, if you please."

"Lace trimmings on the neck and sleeves."

__

"No lace, thank you. Honestly, Elizabeth!"

"Rubies and diamonds. And silver, lots of it. A tiara, perhaps?"

"Pearls and gold, if you would be so kind, Mrs. Dawson. Out you go, Elizabeth! Please, Mrs. Dawson, you'll have it done in a week?"

"I certainly will try my best, Miss Swann. Oh, I do remember when you two arrived here, ten years ago. You were so thin and scrawny, Christina. You certainly have bloomed, dearie. Your sister is still tall and thin, I do wish you'd eat some more, Miss Elizabeth," Mrs. Dawson blubbered into an embroidered handkerchief. I smiled bleakly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dawson. You are too kind," I said. Elizabeth grinned.

"Oy, Jerome! Git out here, boy, I've got a delivery for you to make. Those air headed Templeton girls commissioned four new ball gowns a month back, can you believe it? Four! Took me all this time to make them and if that useless boy ever gets here, he'll relay to _them_ that I'll be too busy to be bothered with their orders for a while. Oh, a wedding! There hasn't been a wedding at Port Royal since…"

Mrs. Dawson was blathering on dizzily when her son, Jerome, entered from the back. His sandy hair was as wavy as ever, yet he managed to pull off the shining looks with the rumpled grace of a sailor. I much preferred Will's dark locks. Jerome's green eyes were glinting with mirth as he looked first to my sister, I noticed, and then to me. I greatly preferred Will's dark eyes, too, but seeing Jerome made me grin all the same.

"Why, Miss Swann! It's so good to see you again. I hope you enjoyed your rendezvous!" he said, his teeth glinting cheekily as his eyes flicked to Elizabeth once more. She scowled at him.

"Well, Jerome Dawson. Still the same trouble making wanker, I see," I said. Jerome roared with laughter while Mrs. Dawson looked scandalized at my choice of words. Oh, dear. I wasn't aboard the _Pearl_ anymore, it seemed.

Elizabeth still looked sour, her dark eyes flashing nastily in Jerome's direction. I would have to ask her later what had passed between them. From the look on Jerome's face, he was quite smitten with Elizabeth. Perhaps I needn't look so far to find my dearest sister a husband. She'd need someone with a good sense of humor, and if Jerome was flawed in all else he at least had a sense of humor.

"You must tell me, Miss Christina - is it true that you didn't just run off with the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, but you also eloped?"

"Jerome Dawson you base creature!" Elizabeth shrieked.

"How dare you, Jerome; you apologize this instant!" Mrs. Dawson said, looking intrigued beneath her feigned anger. She whapped her son with a dress comb she was using to get the last of the lint of a yard of fine fabric.

"Please, Mrs. Dawson, Elizabeth. Jerome Dawson, you disappoint me. I wouldn't think you would be taken in by such gossip!" I said airily, sweeping out of the dress shop and heading to the florist to put in an order for the finest flowers Port Royal had to offer.


	38. I Do, Again

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Here we are, the last chapter. Finally.

The day of my wedding raced to greet me and I found myself mildly nervous. Elizabeth, the wonder that she is, had helped all the preparations speed by, a fact noticed only by the shrewdest of old maids and widows. Most of them had to good sense to keep quiet about it, but those who did run their mouths were shushed almost disdainfully. Everyone was excited about the upcoming wedding, and many were sure the speed with which is was planned was only due to the bride's eagerness to be safely tucked away with her young man.

I was not nervous to be marrying Will, of course, because I had been there and done that before. Indeed, I just wanted the ceremony to be over quickly so Will and I could start our life together properly, in our own home.

My father offered to have a house built for us as part of my dowry, but Will was quite adamant about wanting to purchase a home for himself. Even my most arduous urging couldn't make him accept, and it seemed for a while that the wedding would be postponed for a terribly long time because of my fool husband's stubbornness. That turned out not to be the case, however.

Will had saved up a fair amount of money in all his years as blacksmith, even though most of them were spent as an apprentice. While Mr. Brown, Port Royal's secret alcoholic, had been a drunk man he had also been a fair one. He didn't allow anyone to know that it was Will fulfilling all their orders, but he did at least give a small amount of the profit to Will, starting from his sixteenth birthday. Not enough of the profit, I sniffed, hardly the amount that Will deserved for not divulging Mr. Brown's secret but thoughtful all the same.

Will had bought us a cottage on the outskirts of Port Royal, to keep me away from the hustle and bustle of the townspeople. There were a few other houses neighboring ours, but Will assured me that our new neighbors were kind people. Most of them were young couples with small children, so I should feel right at home and make many friends there. I doubted I would get on very well with any soft-skinned housewife, but I smiled all the same to make Will happy. He really was very proud of the cottage he had bought. As was custom, I had only see the outside. I wouldn't see the inside of my new home until Will carried me over the threshold later this night.

My father would not be put off in his efforts to present a dowry, however. Among the poorer people a dowry, if it was had, was merely a family heirloom if it existed at all. My father, denied the opportunity to build me a mansion right next to his, with a stable and a legion of servants and cooks, furnished my home instead. The cottage, which Will had intended to be small, turned out to be the largest of the area. In fact, it came with two floors. Will, while exasperated, had allowed my father's need to pry. What it all came down too, I would find out later, was a cottage with a fine mahogany staircase made of an expert blend of dark and lightwoods and expensive tapestries. The first floor had a warm den with a fireplace, a sitting room to entertain guests in complete with its own miniature library, a dining room with large windows overlooking a garden that I would craft to have as many wildflowers as possibly without converting the space into a forest, a kitchen that by my father's standards was small and a small bedroom for servants. My father couldn't imagine his daughter not having servants.

The second floor had a large master bedroom for Will and I, with the largest four poster bed O I would ever see in my life. Furnished in dark reds and rich gold, it too had a fireplace. It was evident that my father perhaps wanted to increased the likelihood of his having grandchildren, given the finery of the bed and linens. There was a screen separating the bedroom from a washing place, complete with a bathtub that would easily old two or three and made of ivory. Outside the house there was a ladder leading up to the balcony that overlooked the road and a well was located conveniently close to the site of my new home. On the other side of the room was an oriental style screen that I suppose would be for me to dress behind, should I keep any modesty at all. Not likely, but there you have it.

There were also three other bedrooms; a small one that would serve as a nursery and two larger ones for when my theoretical children were grown enough to have their own rooms. Each came with a large closet for trunks full of dresses, as did my own bedroom. The small nursery was already filled with two cradles made of painted white wood and the walls were painted yellow. A rocking horse stood grandly in the corner. Evidently my father wanted me to get on with the childbearing.

There was also a larger library and tearoom, the last room to make up the second floor. I could tell it would be my favorite room in the house, furnished in a way similar to the library of my father's mansion, where I had spent the majority of my time that wasn't spent sneaking out of the house to see Will. Now that I was to be married, I doubted I would have much time to spend in this new library, but the sentiment was endearing just the same. I truly felt the warmth towards my father that Elizabeth had always felt, and wondered if I could love the old fool as dearly as she always would.

My father had also presented us with four servants. Mary would be staying with me in one of the extra bedrooms, but I assured her that I wouldn't allow her to lift a finger unless it was to teach me to do some of my own housekeeping. The old cook and Anita also came with me, and I told the both of them that I would be spending as much time as possible learning from them - surely Will wouldn't let them stay for long; the prospect of having people wait on him quite foreign to him and I knew he didn't like it in the slightest. The fact that I knew very litter about cooking, if anything at all, was all the kept him placated.

The last servant was presumably to be our butler, but where my father found the man I didn't know. He was short and stocky and looked as though he would be better suited to be a butcher than a butler. Will dismissed him quickly, but I thought it was rather a shame. I wanted to have plenty of baths, and it looked as though that man could do very will with some heavy lifting of water.

Before I knew it, Mary was helping me get into my wedding gown. Mrs. Dawson had done a lovely job. It was the creamy satin that I'd wanted, with full skirts and embroidered with the tiniest pearls I'd ever seen. It had a square cut neckline that had a satin ruffle trim and sleeves that went just past my elbows, also with a smooth satin ruffle. The full skirt was pulled back to reveal bright white petticoats and moved like a bell every time I walked. The dress was heavier than most when I attached the tail to it, a dreadfully large and dragging piece of fabric edged with heron feathers. Elizabeth had gotten her wish and I was given a pearl coronet and finely woven veil that would cascade down my exposed back, and glittering little diamonds were sewn into to the veil. Finally, I was presented with gold earrings, bracelets, and a necklace from my father that was engraved, "_All my love to my little raven on her wedding day._"

All that remained now was to head to the church in the center of town and become Mrs. Will Turner officially at last.

* * *

Will stood in front of the alter nervously, wishing that Jack could be here to be his best man. Jack would scoff at the thought, for Jack was hardly a man to be seen at a wedding. And Will laughed when he tried to imagine Jack dressed up in finery, anyway. Still, it would do a lot better than having Jerome Dawson as his best man. After all, Jerome and Will were worlds apart. The sandy-haired young man was laughing heartily and shooting smiles at Elizabeth, which at one point would have annoyed Will, but now he hardly noticed. He kept his hands clenched tightly in front of him, shocked at how much they seemed to be sweating and yet ice cold at the same time, and hoped that Christina wasn't nearly as nervous as he was.

Jerome Dawson seemed to find it all one grand joke, and Will thought it would have been wise to accept Gillette or even Commodore Norrington as his best man. Anyone but that cheeky idiot who insisted on flirting with Will's soon-to-be sister-in-law, who seemed to be trying to murder him with her eyes.

Will laughed quietly, thinking about how far he had come from what he planned years ago. He had planned to win Elizabeth Swann over, four years ago and although he had largely given up on that by the time he reached 18, it was still a hope of his. Now, however, he could hardly fathom marrying the tall, thin blond woman in front of him, and from the grin on her lips that flashed even though Jerome was in her presence, she could hardly imagine marrying him, Will, either.

Elizabeth of course looked lovely, she always did. But Will noticed it this time with only friendly affection, his eyes turning once again to the back of the church where the doors were still damnably closed. Elizabeth was dressed in a dress of deep green, the front of her skirts sewn up all around to show voluminous petticoats embroidered with red and gold leaves. The sleeves of the dress were full to just about her elbow, where they were met with creamy gloves. Her hair was pulled back and piled high on her head and her face and shoulders were immaculately powdered as always. She looked radiant, of course, but also happier than he had ever seen her. It might have been why Jerome was staring at her so intently.

Will wondered why he had accepted the fool man's offer to be his best man. But, he noted, he wasn't very versed when it came to the etiquette of marriage, and Christina had suggested it after all. He vaguely wondered why but decided he didn't very much care, so long as this bloody wedding would begin soon.

The church was decorated with island flowers, birds of paradise and plumeria hanged from the rafters of the small but elegant church. A white aisle was laid out and at the end of each pew, there was a small bouquet of flowers. It smelled pretty, although stuffy, and Will was anxious for the wedding to commence not only because he was sure seeing Christina would calm him, but because he felt he would suffocate in the sweet scented air. Weddings were a tiresome business, entirely too many flowers even in their island wedding, Will thought, although the dais had been nice.

That was another reason Will was eager for the wedding and reception to be over and done with. He hadn't fulfilled the most enjoyable of his responsibilities as a husband since they'd left the island, and luckily he'd been too busy to dwell on it.

Well, almost.

Before he could go off and think of Christina as she had been on the island, the music started to play. The organ, an instrument which Will had always found abrasive given his scant knowledge of music, actually sounded pleasant to his ears for once. The doors opened and Will's heart leapt to finally see Christina, but it wasn't her. He swore under his breath when the first of the wedding party, a little girl with brown skin and tightly curled hair, the daughter of one of the cooks in the Governor's mansion, made her way down the aisle scattering flowers before her and walking dreadfully slowly.

"Don't worry, son, this'll be over before you know it," the priest, a Father Mallory whom Will had never met said. Will's best man had left to walk in with the wedding party, and Will was standing very much alone except for the priest.

"Yes, Father," Will said obligingly, vowing to keep his mouth more firmly under his control for the rest of the ceremony.

* * *

Much to Elizabeth's happiness, she was not to walk in with Jerome Dawson. It had stung not to be named Maid of Honor, but she hadn't really expected it anyway. No, on the arm of that infernal young man was Mary Porter, who looked radiant in a dress of deep green embroidered very much like Elizabeth's own dress. Elizabeth herself was walking down the aisle leisurely, congratulating herself on how find the small church looked, on the arm of Commodore Norrington. She could vaguely see the shape of Yani, Anita's little daughter Christina chose to be flower girl, ahead. They were almost at the alter, then.

Father hadn't approved of Christina allowing their servants into her wedding party, but she was quite set in her choices and he had yielded once again. She had flippantly denied wanting anything to do with having the more respectable members of society as her ladies-in-waiting for her wedding, saying that nothing would thrill her more than to deny them the chance and, she snorted, honor, of being involved in the Governor's daughter's wedding. Elizabeth smiled thinly, thinking of Christina's coarse way with words.

So Anita was looking quite beside herself on the arm of one of First Mate Gillette, who was looking at her pretty dark face with amusement. The final component of the wedding party was the young maid, Linda, who looked shocked at her good fortune of being asked to be in the party at all. Her escort was a tall young man with light brown hair, one of the older stable boys if Elizabeth wasn't much mistaken. It certainly would be a wedding to remember, that was certain.

Finally they had all reached the front of the church and looked towards the doors expectantly as the music started over again. Elizabeth glanced at Will, whose jaw was working furiously as he tried to contain his nerves. Next to him stood Jerome Dawson and Commodore Norrington, who both looked very amused at Will's nervousness, and Gillette who was in a similar state. The stable boy appeared even more nervous than Will himself, although why Elizabeth couldn't fathom.

Mary, Anita, and Linda all looked joyful and expectant as the silhouette of Christina emerged in the bright door way. _Why, she looks lovely. And Father, how proud he seems!_ Elizabeth thought as they walked down the aisle. Christina had an abnormally tight grip on their father's arm, Elizabeth noticed with a smile. Although her sister's face was obscured by the veil, she was beaming. No one could possibly have guessed that merely an hour before she was sitting on the shore shaking with nerves and refusing to go to the church under any circumstances.

* * *

I was sitting a few paces off from the docks, holding the ends of my skirt down lest they go billowing off in the wind. I knew I was risking ruin of my dress and my hair, which I felt whipping around all about me, but I didn't particularly care. I knew I was risking being late to my own wedding, and knew that Will was probably beside himself with worry, and while I did feel a bit guilty about that, I didn't move from my spot.

"Oh, God, what was I thinking! Marriage! In a church and everything!" I moaned, scanning the horizon for any sign of Jack and finding none. Why was that pirate never around when you needed him? I wanted to run away again, but this time it was not for being hurt. I was terribly frightened to walk down an aisle under the scrutiny of everyone in Port Royal. Why did weddings have to be such public affairs, anyway?

"Yes, in a church and everything. I'm shocked at you, Christina, hiding away like this! Get up!"

Elizabeth stood behind me with her hands on her lips, a smile on her face despite her words. She grinned wider.

"My brave sister, the one who runs off with pirates to save a poor damsel and duels with the Commodore just to wipe the smirk off his face - hiding on the shore and waiting, no doubt, for a dashing rogue to take her away? On your wedding day, too! Poor Will's in the church, shaking in his boots, and here you are meditating it all away!" she said, walking over and sitting next to me without any concern for her dress.

"I'd like to see you go off and get married!" I grumbled. She laughed.

"Yes well, that's hardly likely to happen, is it?"

"Oh, it will," I said under my breath. "If I have anything to do with it, you certainly will be in this position, and soon!"

"Yes well, until then up you get." She grabbed my arm and, careful not to wrinkle my dress anymore than it already was, pulled me to my feet. I stood and looked out at the ocean as it crashed in, wanting to run among the waves like Will and I had done when we were married on the island. Elizabeth seemed to read my thoughts.

"You've been married before, this is all just a silly formality. I suppose you should think of it as you would a duel - just another thing to conquer, hm?" she said. I sighed and closed my eyes, smelling the ocean and wishing I could be back at the highest point on the island, with the strange women's voices raised all around me in song.

"I'm not going to ask such a silly question as to whether or not you love him," Elizabeth said impatiently, and I glared at her for ruining my reverie. "But if you do not hurry yourself over their to marry him, the poor boy will probably keel over unconscious and you would be to blame."

"Elizabeth, you bothersome girl, hush your mouth. I'm going, you see? Give a woman time to get her bearings, would you? It's not every day she's married, you know! It only happens once in her lifetime!"

"Unless that woman happens to be you."

* * *

Will had never felt more joyful than when he finally got the chance to walk out of the church, hand in hand with his wife. Of course, the moment he kissed her in front of everyone at Port Royal, he felt that elation could not possibly be much deeper. And the moment she looked at him with her tawny owl eyes shining as she said "I do," filled him with such happiness that he knew it surely must be the best moment of his life.

Things seemed intent on getting better and better, he thought. And he was quite content to keep it that way. The reception was nice, although he thought it rather a hindrance. He wanted to show Christina the home he had made for them, even though the Governor's money had gone almost entirely to furnishing it. More honestly, he wanted to carry her into that house and kick shut the door and not emerge for a week or so. A terrible test on a man's endurance, getting married was. And not once but twice! If that didn't prove his love for his lovely Mrs. Turner, he didn't know what would.

Christina was alight with joy, and everybody could see it. For once what people were saying what not about what a ruffian she had turned out to be, or what major drama was being played out in the Swann household now, but rather about how lovely she looked. Her dark hair was decidedly lopsided and oddly windblown, and her cheeks looked rosy from the sun. Her powder had all but been wiped away and she was as dark as she had ever been, but her eyes glowed and she danced with a grace that had been denied her all her life. And her eyes were only for the young stag that danced with her. Christina and Will were a lovely married couple and everyone basked in the delight that radiated off them. Even, they noticed, Elizabeth.

Jerome Dawson was quite interested in the younger Swann daughter - the only Swann daughter, now that Christina had become Mrs. Turner - and the good mood of everyone at the reception was doing wonders for him. Elizabeth had even accepted a dance, although she'd been swept away by the fool stable boy in an instant. Jerome cared very little for that, because Elizabeth was staring at the boy with the same patient expression and vague smile that she stared at every other man who cut in to dance with her. At least with him, her eyes narrowed and flashed with annoyance. It might not seem like a good thing, but it was better than vague politeness and a promise to forget him as soon as the next man came to call. Jerome smiled, glad for the rest of the evening, and asked Miss Elizabeth to dance again.

* * *

I waved goodbye as Will lifted me eagerly into his arms; the whole of Port Royal was gathered to see that I was carried across the threshold into my new home. My father was smiling broadly at my happiness, and I blew him a kiss. Elizabeth was grinning as well, along with the Commodore and Gillette. She wasn't crying like a little fool, I thought fondly, regarding how Mary, Linda, and Anita were all sobbing. Little Yani looked bored, but amused herself by clapping along with the rest. I watched them until Will kicked the door closed behind me.

"Shall I carry you to our room, Mrs. Turner?" he said, and I laughed with happiness. "No, my dear husband, I think I can walk," I said.

"Good, because between you and this infernal dress you're wearing, I feel as though my arms will break."

"You loathsome little boy!" I admonished, kissing him on the lips and for the moments surrounding us, failing to take in the sight of my new home. I broke away and he looked at me quite stormily. "You are trying my patience again, Christina. I think it would be fitting if I showed you your new bedroom, first, before the tour begins."

"Oh, but Will! Then I wont see our house for days!" I objected, laughing at the oath he swore under his breath. "I'll just be a minute, Turner, practice some patience wont you?"

I made my way about the house, poking into each room and squealing with delight when I saw it. It was far more than just an ordinary cottage, but Will had at least stemmed my father's enthusiasm a bit more than I thought he could. There rooms were lovely, but they also held a quaint, traditional charm that allowed them to be what they were without seeming ostentatious. It was probably done in the style Will's mother had had her house in, and by knowing that I felt closer to Will although I would never meet my in-laws.

"Are you quite done?" he asked me, as I finished studying the den. "Oh, yes, Mr. Turner. I'd love for you to show me the upstairs, now."

"Only if you insist, Mrs. Turner," he answered stoically. Oh, that wouldn't do. I walked closer to him, tilting my head up and smiling, tugging the lapels of his fancy coat teasingly.

"You don't sound too enthused, Will. I'm hurt," I said, sticking out my lower lip. He growled and grabbed me around the waist, hoisting me over his shoulder and charging up the stairs.

"Oh, you scoundrel! Is this how you treat your lady wife?" I demanded joyfully as the door to our bedroom slammed closed and he deposited me on the large marriagebed.

"Only out of the deepest love for you," he answered, and our lips met again as they had done hours in the church before when we became for the second time, man and wife.

The End.


	39. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Don't own

How To Plan A Wedding To Your Blacksmith/Pirate Honey

1. Spend as much time as possible with your honey. You might feel a bit strange at first, but he did choose you over your perfect sister, so try to remember that.

2. Even though the remnants of whatever history your sister and your honey shared seem to linger, you should give your honey the benefit of the doubt. Of course, once your honey and your sister share an illicit kiss, it becomes obvious to you that you cannot stay.

3. Bringing your best friend (who just had a falling out with the esteemed Commodore of your port) flee home and join a roguish captain on a pirate ship to a secluded island where the island people will adopt you into their culture.

4. Your honey of course cannot bear to see you go, and he will join up with the pirates in an attempt to win your heart. You'll be cornered with him on a ship at sea and he'll do everything in his power to win you back - but you cannot take him back right away, no matter how good he looks shirtless and sweaty, swabbing the deck.

5. Thankfully the island will separate males and females, and you'll have some respite from having to see your honey in all his physical beauty. Of course, you'll have forgiven him somewhat by then, which you'll prove by sneaking out to see him in the middle of the night. Island custom forbids this, and you'll be punished in the morning, but it certainly was worth it.

6. After backbreaking labor and an initiation ceremony, you start to realize that the island customs are really quite beautiful and novel compared to your stuff English upbringing which you have struggled against all your life. A person from your past will arrive with the Commodore, demanding to marry you. Duel with him and win, and when the threat is over, propose to your honey.

7. You will marry your honey in an island ceremony, thereby ending your stay at the island. Sunburned and sore, but ultimately much happier than you have been in ages, you will return home for your real wedding.

8. Things will be understandably tense at home between you and your stuffy father, and especially between you and your sister. You will discover, slowly, that she had changed almost as much as you have, and that you are both independent and proud young women. She has given up any claims she once had on your honey, but even if she hadn't you would not feel threatened by her anymore.

9. Still, you want to plan your wedding as quickly as discreetly possible (things may have gotten a bit out of hand after your island wedding, after all.) Your sister, in an effort to repair what scraps of congeniality remain between the two of you, wishes to aid you in your wedding plans and since all speed is necessary, you agree.

10. Your second wedding is pulled off without a hitch, but perhaps more importantly your relationship with your prom queen of the Caribbean sister is on the way to recovery. Before your wedding, you suffer from a sudden bout of cold feet and risk being more than fashionably late by sitting on the beach and watching the surf roll in. Your sister finds you and drags you to your honey, where you proceed to get married and live as happily ever after as realistically possible.

Stir.

Bake.

Repeat.

Feeds any number of STILL infatuated teenage girls.


End file.
